Let Me Wake to Love Again - Kathyra's Tale
by Raven Sinead
Summary: Part of my Dragon Age series. In a world of pain and tragedy, a sister will take whatever steps necessary to save the one she loves...only to find herself too late. Sometimes, your life is all you can escape with. But who heals the broken? What is powerful enough to break down the walls of fear and bitterness? Takes place during "And Treat Our Blood as Gold. " First person OC POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything...well...except Kathyra. Everything else belongs to BioWare.

* * *

**Kathyra**

I struggled to remain awake; to cling to a quickly fading consciousness. Pain spiraled up and down my side and I struggled to even breathe. _This is bad_, I detached myself from the situation, attempting to analyze my condition as a physician. _Pierced…left side…at an upward angle. My heart is not compromised, but my lung might well be damaged._

The pain returned with a roaring ferocity as the woman who had struck down the High Seeker turned her attention to me. A mercifully warm hand brushed my cheek as I closed my eyes against the onslaught of agony.

"Still with me?" Leliana asked, and I struggled to open my eyes, to look into the wells of peace in her gaze, to see what had so long been denied me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but could find no words, as even a shallow inhale fired needles through my chest. I blinked, hoping that she would understand. Leliana reached out again, stroking my hair away from my face…the movement of her hand traced the same path as a ghost's. She cradled my head in her hands and lifted it with great care, attempting to spare me any further discomfort.

_So deft, so practiced_, I thought, even though her hands were stronger than any woman's I had ever known. _How can she say she is not a healer, when she has striven for nothing but to save us? _

The cool edge of molded clay brushed my lips. "Drink." Leliana urged. "It will ease the pain and help you sleep."

I could smell the bitterness of elfroot and I managed to conjure a grin. "I know."

The light in the room was dim, my vision blurry, but I could see a smile cross Leliana's lips. It lit a fire in me that had nothing to do with the wound in my side or the fear in my heart. I drank the bitter liquid and struggled to swallow as she eased my head back down onto a pillow.

"Hush, fool." she set the cup aside, clay striking wood with a dull thud.

There was a fragility in her movements that belied the great strength in her heart. The strength that had kept her from breaking when Cassandra tore her from her warden's side. The strength that had forgiven me when I revealed my identity...the sister of the woman who had betrayed her. The strength that had defeated the High Seeker in single combat. The strength that had faltered with the advent of darker dreams.

_So lovely…lovely as I have never before witnessed. Marjolaine ruined all things she touched…all things. How did Leliana escape that damning embrace? _

Using what little energy I had left, I reached up and took her hand. I could feel the scars and calluses on her fingers, badges of her skill in archery. "You…continue…to amaze." I breathed, feeling my eyes close of their own volition. "No one…heals…the physician." I mumbled old words…words that would mean nothing to her, that thrust me backwards into darker dreaming of my own…

* * *

_"Where," Leron's voice is ice and shivers trill down my spine as his eyes flash with a glow of lyrium, "did you mange to acquire this?" _

_ His hands, hands that have invaded my mind and body ruthlessly, tearing from me memories and innocence and blood, hold the bag of gold that I had placed into them. _

_ "Does that matter, bardmaster?" I ask, trying to control the tremors in my hands. "All you need know is that the gold is clean. Untraceable."_

_ He sets the pouch on the table and stares at it, running his well manicured hand through lank, stringy, unremarkable brown hair. He scratches behind his ear and my gut twists, knowing what the gesture means. As a child, homeless, alone, and hungry, I had learned. I had learned to satisfy his hungers, to indulge in his wants…to read his body. _

_** Soon, it will be better**_**, **_I resolve. __**At last, I can free myself and Marjolaine. We can take what we have learned and make our own lives…and I will at last be able to remember.**_

_ "That amount could keep a family fat for years." Leron grins, revealing yellowing teeth that magic can do nothing about. "What do you want, pretty thing, hmmm? You've never prayed at my altar before…at least, not willingly."_

_ "I…I want my freedom. Mine and Marjolaine's." I state, my voice trembling like new leaves against storm winds. "That," I indicate the bag of gold, "should be more than enough to cover anything you have done for us over the years. And more."_

_ Leron rises with the agility of a cat, frightening me. I back away, knowing that he has me cornered, that the weapons I carry on my body can do nothing to protect me against magic. It is swift and ruthless and, in his hands, an instrument of absolute torture. _

_ "Don't run, pretty thing." he cautions, pouring the gold out and staring at it, running calculations through his twisted mind. "You think I don't know, you little bitch!" the slap comes before I can deflect it and my skin burns against his hand. "You think I haven't heard about one of my own running amok and earning coin on the side!? And you expect me to believe that it's __**clean**__!? I taught you __**everything**__, you should know better than to lie to me!"_

_ A wave of force slams against my shoulders, forcing me to the ground, though Leron has not lifted a finger. Tears pool in my eyes and spill over as he walks closer, his hand reaching out and sharp nails biting into my reddening skin as he squeezes my face. _

_ "I will see it, Kathyra." he leers, standing over me, the instrument of torture between his thighs beginning to stir. "I will see it all."_

_ Purple fire arcs along his fingertips as he presses his hands against my temples. Pain follows, blinding, nauseating streaks of agony as he flays my mind with a rusted scalpel. Memories wash to the forefront and I grab at them, cutting my hands as they slip out of my grasp and rush into his mind, letting him see, letting him feed as he gazes at the actions I have committed for my freedom. Sacrificing my soul. Whoring my body. Selling what little principles I have left to cling to. He sifts through my thoughts like a miner panning for gold, discovering the truth of my words...nothing I had earned had been marked. He will be a wealthy man, lacking for nothing, allowed to live unthreatened._

_ The attack ends, leaving me breathless and Leron gloating. He understands the expression stamped on my countenance. Fear. Panic. Dread. Pain. He knows the horror that he can visit on me with a simple touch, knowing that all he needs do to control my every word, thought, and action lies in his power over Marjolaine._

_**Little sister, soon. I will get you away from him and he will **__**never**__** have the chance to harm you. You will not know my torment. I. Swear. It.**_

_He is kneeling before me now, the lyrium sheen in his eyes turning their dirt color to something bright and terrifying. _

_ "I will take the gold." he smiles, a smile I once thought comforting, promising, helpful. "For you. But, if you wish your sister free as well, I ask for one thing more."_

_**Yes! Anything! Anything to be free of this! I have…I have to save Marjolaine. It has been too long; and I have failed her. I have to…have to save her. **_

_ "Name it." I dare to gaze into his eyes, ignoring the pulses of pain inside my skull, the terror of having my mind split open and sundered yet again. _

_ Leron's hand snakes behind my head and pulls me close. His mouth covers mine and his teeth bite into my lip until I taste blood. Brutal hands with spidering fingers reach out and clutch my breast, bruising and kneading my flesh in a sick mockery of passion. Bile rises in my throat as I hear animalistic noises of pleasure humming in the back of his throat. _

_ I close my eyes and surrender, willing my mind to another place as he covers me with his body, drowning my senses in a wash of Orlesian colognes. The sick-sweet stench acts as a soporific, and I sever myself from my body as Leron takes what he wants…as he always has…but this time_

_ …__**it will be worth it. After this time…never again.**_

* * *

The ground beneath me lurched and heaved. Hands were on my shoulders, pressing me down. Panicked, still trapped in the dream, beneath Leron's hands, I lashed out, screaming as a raw agony shredded across my chest.

"Kathyra," a cool voice, like water on a blistering day…_Leliana_… "Kathyra, stay still. Hush, now, hush. I am here; you are safe with me, I promise."

_Safe? With you? You…you promised you would keep me safe…so did Leron. _

My frantic gasping eased, leaving a tightness in my chest that built to a racking cough. Leliana's blue eyes filled with sympathy and a carefully masked anxiety. Nothing in them spoke of hunger, just of caring. She turned me onto my right side as I coughed.

The taste of blood filled my mouth and I licked copper and salt from my lips as the spasm eased. Leliana's gentle hands returned me to my back and wiped away the blood.

"What can I do?" she asked. "Kathyra, what can I do?"

I shook my head, begging her with my eyes to understand. I needed a surgeon…or a mage. "Nothing." I rasped, swallowing down another cough.

It would not be suppressed, however, and my body shook yet again, jostling the projectile in my side, tearing skin and rupturing veins. Blood filled my mouth again, a sickening recollection, a repressed memory that would not, in my weakened state, be denied…


	2. Chapter 2

**Kathyra**

_Moonlight streams down on the cobblestone streets, painting the scene in a white-blue light. Cold comfort. I huddle into myself, rubbing my arms in desperate attempt to rid myself of the feel of Leron's flesh. It will not work. It never works. _

_**But I am free. **A__ giddy sense of joy fills me at the thought as I look deep into the alleyway and wait for her. __**Free as I have not been, as **__**we**__** have not been in years. **_

_Memories plague me as I pace back and forth in the chilled moonlight. Memories of frigid nights spent in doorways, covered in dirt, kicked to the streets by those from whom I felt brave enough to beg from. The hearts of men held no room for a young girl's tale of murder and destitution, of parent's blood spilled for a few paltry coins. They did not care for the frantic pleas of a child…for the hearts of men were hard. I had learned such things at harsh, harsh hands. _

_ The slight scuff of leather against stone catches my attention and my heart begins to beat faster as I turn, watching a svelte silhouette move away from the wall. _

_** Little sister**__, my heart swells with pride as I watch her move so gracefully, like a dancer born, like a noblewoman. __**All of this has been worth it. The lost memory, the blood on my hands, to see you so strong and proud, no longer shivering in the streets, eyes dulled by hunger, body drained by too many days of too little food. I did my best for you, Marjolaine…I did what I could. **_

_ "Kathyra," her voice is warm and inviting, like a hearth fire on a winter's night, "you look wretched, sister dear. Are you sleeping at all?"_

_ "Not well." I step towards her, arms open for an embrace. Instead, she clasps my forearms and presses a light kiss to each cheek…a distant greeting from a girl I recall as being openly affectionate. "But those days are past, Marjolaine. I've done it…at last, I've done it."_

_ Her brow rises and she twists an obsidian curl around her finger, pacing around me like a cat toying with a mouse. A small spike of fear grows in my heart, but I dismiss it. _

_**She is my **__**sister**__**. The fear I feel is simply residual…because I do not believe Leron will let this be as simple as gold and services rendered. It has **__**nothing**__** to do with her. **__**Nothing.**_

_ "What have you done, sister dear?" she asks, equal parts innocence and…malice? "What is it that has your heart aquiver like a fluttering bird?"_

_ "Marjolaine," I reach out and grasp her hand, stilling her predator's circles, attempting to calm my quickened breathing, "we are free. I bought our way clear of Leron, this very night. We do not have to return to him. No more missions, no more lessons, no more of this life which we have been forced to lead. I…I've a little gold tucked away, enough for us to start anew, to leave Val Royeaux and begin our own lives."_

_ Glee strikes Marjolaine's features and she wraps me in her arms, nearly lifting me from the ground in her enthusiasm. "Truly?" she asks, eager and bright. "We are truly free of this?"_

_ "Yes." I shake my head, feeling a rush of hope in my spirit like a well dug in the desert. "Yes, Marjolaine. I promise, no more days of fearing for our lives, or of ruining the fates and fortunes of others. No more daggers in the dark, no more pretending, no more masks and masquerades."_

_ "Oh, Kathyra," she strokes her finger down my arm, "what did it cost you?" her eyes meet mine, our mother's green, eyes like my own…the only manner in which you can see we are sisters. _

_ "It matters little." tears choke in my throat and I smile, grateful to see her so happy, grateful that we will be allowed to leave this city that has bred our shared fall from grace. _

_**No blood has stained your hands**_, _again I feel the wash of pride, of satisfaction, of __**knowing**__ that I had kept her from Leron's more terrible work. __**Your body is still pure, Marjolaine. I have sacrificed **__**everything**_**, **_**and this will make it worth every exacting cost. Every violation, every sundering of innocence…worth it. Worth. It. All. **_

_ "Does it not?" she inquires, taking my hands in her own, warming them. "You must have worked your fingers to the bone for this, Kathyra."_

_ I cringe as she examines my nails and sees the flecks of stubborn blood beneath them. Blood that no water can wash away, that no sharp blade can remove. But my guilt eases when I remember why that blood lingers there…for her sake. For __**our**__ future. _

_ I pull my hands away, the impatient older sister, eager to depart from these filthy streets and the evil that walks them day by day, uncaring, insouciant. "I said it does not matter."_

_ Her soft lips take on a sullen pout. "You said it mattered little. What I do not understand, sister, is your anxiety. Your face is drawn, your skin pale; I can feel your pulse racing. Why are you so eager to leave this place? It is harbored us for many years, and we have been safe."_

_ Her ignorance astounds me and I feel the first blush of anger tint my cheeks. "__**You**__ have been safe, Marjolaine. Did you never wonder why? Did you never think…"_

_ "Kathyra, I am __**happy**__ here." Marjolaine spreads her hands in an encompassing gesture. "Look at the beauty of this city, the secrets that it holds. Do these streets not call to you as they call to me?"_

_ Confusion ripples through me as I gaze upon a…stranger? "These streets nearly killed us, Marjolaine." I argue, feeling a cold despair infuse my soul. "Or have you so quickly forgotten the months we spent, living on the dregs of what was offered? Have you forgotten the fever that nearly killed you?"_

_ "That which cast us out also took us in." Marjolaine counters, her lips quirking up in a scheming grin. "Leron has been kind, and we have prospered beneath his tutelage."_

_**Prospered? **__questions swirled around me in a dizzying wave. __**Kind? What in hell is this? Marjolaine, have you been **__**blind**__** this entire time!? Did you see **__**nothing**__** of what I endured while Leron paraded you before the nobles who would not have cared if you **__**died**__** in my arms!? **_

_ "I…" I stammer, "I cannot believe what I am hearing. Marjolaine, we are free to craft our own lives, away from Leron, away from Val Royeaux. Is this not what you wanted; what we spoke of so often into the night?" _

_ "In our early years, perhaps." Marjolaine idly cleans her nails, not seeing the tears on my cheeks, the anguish in my identical eyes. "Leave if you desire, Kathyra. I am content here."_

_ "After all I've done?" rage and agony co-mingle and smear to one. "After everything I sold to Leron to secure your safety!? You would dismiss me without a glance, without a word!?"_

_ "And what have you done, sister dear?" Marjolaine's upper lip curls in a sneer. "But been stupid enough to take all the nasty little aspects of our business upon yourself? Oh, the blood on my hands!" she exclaims in mock horror. "The __**things**__ I have done! Perhaps, if you had a thought in that head of yours, you would not have found yourself on the darker side of the coin, Kathyra."_

_ "What are you saying?" I ask, sorrow coating my soul in a thick, acidic blanket. "Marjolaine…what am I hearing?"_

_ "The truth, as it were." she smiles and brushes an imaginary speck of dust from her impeccable, form fitting clothing. "You have dreamed of freedom, sister, not I. I have all the freedom I need. While you have been slaving away, desecrating your body and soul, I have been making plans. Plans not to continue to serve Leron, but to rule over him, to take his contacts from beneath him, to ruin his name…we could __**thrive**__, Kathyra. You see, I have learned my lessons well."_

_ "Who __**are**__ you?"_

_ "Marjolaine." she grins, showing her teeth, white and pointed in the night. "Your sister, dearest one. And, very soon, the premier bardmaster of Val Royeaux. You cannot ask me to leave such a prominent position for the ignominy of your supposed __**freedom**_**,** _would you? How could you, Kathyra? Rip my dreams away? Scatter me to the four corners of the world?"_

_ "Your dreams?" I demand. "Marjolaine, what sort of sick dream is this? Leron is…he is __**despicable!**__"_

_ "To you." she shrugs. "In truth, the man is brilliant, but too cautious, too careful. Why hide in the shadows when we can parade in the palaces? Why cling to useless secrets when so much more can be achieved in the light? Let the whispers become shouts, let men and elves and dwarves __**fear**__ the bardic calling."_

_ "What has happened to you, Marjolaine?" I beg, feeling for the hilt of my dagger at the small of my back. I cannot explain why I feel the need to arm myself, but my senses are not often wrong, and they are screaming in warning. _

_ "I __**found**__ my freedom, and not in a pile of gold earned by lost virtue. We were __**never**__ in chains, Kathyra. We were never slaves. We were __**blessed**__, and I am willing to extend these blessings to you. Reign at __**my**__ side, sister. I shall see to it that you will never know hunger again. I will see to it that you have all the comforts and luxuries that this life has to offer."_

_ "No." I step forward, pulling my dagger in a smooth motion. Marjolaine has never killed; she does not know the impact on the soul. She does not know the heated wash of blood against skin, or the terror of watching the light fade from another's eyes. "This is __**madness**__, Marjolaine! You have been deceived; you are ill! Come away with me, __**now**__."_

_ "Or you will make me?" she glances up at last, seeing the naked blade in my hands, a wicked dagger with pronged edges, meant to enter the skin smooth as silk, and exit by mutilating flesh and muscle and vein. "Kathyra, put the blade down."_

_ "No." I shake my head, fierce. "Please, Marjolaine, it does not have to be this way. Do you not want a life beyond secrets and shadows? Do you not want the bliss of releasing your guard? Do you not fear the knives in the dark?"_

_ She smiles, and I realize that it has changed. Once it was full of laughter and light, turning her even more beautiful. Now…now it does not reach her eyes. It hangs on her face, full of malice, full of ice, uncaring, unconcerned. _

_ "I am not afraid, Kathyra. Nor have I ever been. Put down the blade."_

_**I cannot let this…this monstrosity...loose in this city. Marjolaine has lost her way and if she…if she were to supplant Leron, with these thoughts and these words…the world is doomed. Marjolaine, why? I love you. Is it not enough? I gave you everything…why would you betray me this way? Why? **_

_ Tears blur my vision as I bring the weapon up, intent on removing at least one monster from the streets of Val Royeaux. Marjolaine ducks under the sweep, catches my arm, and brings my own hand and blade to my right side, piercing the skin, slipping the blade past the rib, impaling the lung. _

_ I gasp from the shock, feeling warm heat flow over my hands as my mouth hangs open in a soundless scream. Marjolaine holds me, careful, walking me back and easing me down against the wall of the alley. I gasp for breath, choking and coughing and feeling blood coat my tongue. _

_ "Kathyra," Marjolaine clicks her tongue and shakes her head in a disapproving gesture, "you should have listened to me. But this…your freedom…it is death, and I do so want to live, dear sister. You stupid, stupid girl. Everything…everything you gave me…it has no meaning, Kathyra. Not in the waking world. You gave me __**nothing**__."_

_ Tears spill from my eyes and I cannot suppress the cry of pain that rips from me as Marjolaine's hand takes the knife, bathing her skin in the blood of her last remaining family…the first blood she has ever shed. _

_ She pulls the blade out and I feel the barbed edges rip and shred me, inside and out. A ragged scream tears from my throat and I clutch at my little sister's shoulder; remembering holding her as she cried herself to sleep, promising that everything would be well with the dawn, remembering offering her what little food I had been able to scrounge, remembering soothing her when the nightmares came. _

_ Marjolaine stands and brushes her clothing free of the debris from the dank, stinking alley. "Farewell, sister dear." she croons. "You should have left without me."_

_ "M…Marjolaine." I plead, reaching out with a trembling hand, pressing my other hand against the wound in my side. "Little sister, please…please help me."_

_ "You gave me nothing, Kathyra." Marjolaine eyes the blade she pulled from my body. She smiles and tucks it into her belt, still dripping with my blood. "Why should I give you anything more?"_


	3. Chapter 3

**Kathyra**

"Sit down, Leliana." a soft voice catches my hearing, barely louder than the rocking and creaking of the ship. "Those have to sting."

I turned my head, feeling the muscles in my neck knot uncomfortably. I swallowed down nausea as pain traveled up and down my side with the movement of the ship. The young templar private put her hand on Leliana's shoulder and urged her to sit down.

"I'm all right." Leliana whispered, her eyes meeting mine. She brushed Kestrel away and moved closer, bringing an oil lamp with her.

In the dim light, I could see the scratches that marred her skin, little slivers of wood embedded in the wounds. In spite of the large piece of wood in my side, I hated to see someone I cared for wounded. For a moment, my uselessness overwhelmed me and I clenched my fingers into the weakest of resentful fists.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Leliana placed a gentle finger across my lips. "Conserve your strength." she warned, a caution I had given to many soldiers on the battlefield.

_To hear it now…from her lips…it is but another form of torture. Why, Leliana? Why are you fighting for me? The last who did…suffered for doing so. I would not wish that fate on you, you who shine so brightly, even in the darkest of skies. _

"How are you feeling?" Leliana asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "None of that," she whispered as I took a rattling breath. "Just blink. Once for yes, twice for no. Are you in pain?"

Once.

"Is it bearable?"

Once.

She offered me a weak smile and I clung to it. She had promised me that I would be all right…and how I _wanted_ to believe. Life had become rote, serving the Chantry, traveling with Cassandra, reining her in from her darker impulses. With Leliana…things had _changed_…in a way I could not quite describe.

_Like snowfall in a land of endless summer. _

"Do you feel ill?" Leliana continued her questions as she checked the bandaging that held the projectile in my side in place.

Once.

"Kestrel," Leliana looked up, "could you look in Kathyra's bag? There should be shaved ginger root. Will that help you?" she turned to me again, so kind and caring.

"Yes." I spoke, unable to keep silent any longer. "Leliana…please…let Kestrel look after you."

She smiled and took my hand, squeezing it, imparting comfort and strength. "I. Am. Fine." she stressed every word. "And if need be, I shall carve that on a stick and beat every last one of you with it."

"Such…dark…humor." I coughed, feeling the sticky wet of blood fleck my lips.

"I find it a saving grace in situations such as these." Leliana muttered, pulling a thick blanket from a pile of bedding.

She lifted me with a tender hand and eased the folded blanket beneath my head, propping me up further. "There," she smiled again, "that should help you breathe easier."

"Leliana," Kestrel handed my younger sister's brightest pupil a cup, "I added the ginger to some tea. It will be all right, will it not?"

"Yes." Leliana accepted the cup and held it to my lips.

I lifted a shaky hand to aid myself, savoring the tea as it eased the rawness of my throat. Warmth infused me and the heady scent of ginger stung as I inhaled. I finished drinking and Leliana put the cup away and tucked the blankets around me, to preserve what little body heat I had left.

"Better?" she asked, soaking a cloth in cool water and wiping sweat from my brow and blood from my lips.

"Yes." my eyelids fluttered as a weary, pained lassitude overtook me. "Thank…you."

"Rest now." Leliana soothed, stroking my cheek with the backs of her fingers. "At least for tonight, let go of your worries."

"Leliana," Kestrel's voice, so impossibly calm, given the situation, crossed the distance, "there's fresh blood on Rylie's bandages. I think wound may have torn."

The air around me stirred and my eyes closed at last; I did not have the strength to open them again. I heard sounds of soft encouragements, whispered from lover to loved, healer to patient.

"Maker's breath, her pulse is racing." Leliana breathed, and oblivion conquered me once again.

* * *

_"…me…hear…you…can you hear me? Child, can you hear me?" somewhere, along the silver-edged black of oblivion, I hear it._

_ Crystal, like a glass bell, the faintest of noises. A sweet voice, light and airy…a songbird. My eyelids feel heavy, as though sewn shut in death. _

_**Dead…I am dead. I must be. I…I remember…not breathing.**_

_ "Cyril, I need you here, __**now**__!" the same crystal sound, stronger now, insistent. _

_ "Maker's breath!" a rough accent, foreign…Ferelden maybe…masculine. "There's blood everywhere. No way can she still be alive."_

_ Warmth…warmth washing over me in the form of human hands, pressing at my wrists, my neck. "She has a pulse, Cyril! Now help me or I swear, I will have you torn in pieces and refuse to stitch you together!"_

_ My instinct is to cringe away from the anger in her words, knowing what follows that tone. Beatings…whips, fists, bruised and bloodied flesh. I attempt to move, to protect my head from the blows certain to come. Instead, pain such as I have never experienced washes over me and I want to scream…nothing but a breathy whimper emerges. _

_ "Are you awake?" the anger is gone, now there is just urgency. "Are you conscious? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"_

_ There are hands everywhere now, feeding the fear that causes my heart to hammer painfully in my chest. "Stab wound," the voice turns clinical, "right side. Possible collapsed lung. Maker, her breathing sounds terrible."_

_ "She's lost so much blood." the man speaks. "We…we won't be able to get her back to the mages in time. The Circle is across the city."_

_ "I am not entirely unskilled, Cyril." indignation. "The Chantry isn't far. Can you carry her?"_

_**I…I do not understand. What is happening? What…what is **__**this**__**!? **__warm, strong arms wrap around me, enfolding me in the terrifying scent of a man. My eyes flare open and I attempt to move but my body refuses to obey. _

_ "Hold still." the arms tighten and the man speaks. "We are going to help you."_

_ I attempt to breathe, to speak, but the air catches in my throat and I cough, feeling as though my chest is being crushed as blood spills into my mouth. _

_ "Quickly, Cyril." the soft, light voice floats away. "We haven't much time."_

_ My eyes close as the pressure on my chest becomes a battle no longer worth fighting. "I don't think we can save this one." his voice sounds grim._

_ "Nonsense." strength, passion, fire. "Death has won too many battles today. I am at my __**end**__ with losing. Now, __**move**__!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Kathyra**

_"That's the last of it." the gentle, airy voice and the snipping sound of shears against thread. _

_ "Well?" the man's tones that I recall from the alley. "What is your verdict?"_

_ "It is entirely on her shoulders now, no thanks to you, Cyril. Could you not at least have done __**something**__?" ire and frustration. _

_ "I did." something within me chafes at the arrogance of his tone. "I spent __**my**__ time explaining to the Revered Mother why you had brought in yet another stray dog."_

_**Yes.**__ Weary thoughts invade my mind. __**A dog. Beaten and left to die in the streets. **_

_ "You took an oath, Cyril." the lightness in her tone vanishes. "I will not have patients spoken about in such a manner."_

_ "Even a rogue, a possible thief…an assassin?" he asks. "How many weapons did you find on her person?"_

_ "She was injured. Who and what she is does not matter." a stranger defends me and shame crashes in, for I know I am not worthy…my own __**sister**__ did not find me…worth keeping alive. "This is not a profession, Cyril. It is a calling."_

_ "I know that…"_

_ "It is __**obvious**__ that you are mistaken." the fire in her tone is warming, not at all like the flames in Leron's or Marjolaine's, meant to burn, to sear, to leave scars. "Consider your apprenticeship terminated, Cyril. Get out of my sight and do not darken my doorway again."_

_ "But…" he sputters, "…but there are none…"_

_ "There are plenty of like minded fools who will take you under their wing." she hisses. "I am not one of them. Get. Out. Now."_

_ "The Revered Mother wants to see you." his bitter voice echoes as he departs. "She is not well pleased."_

_ "Then she can wait!" _

_**I…I need to open my eyes…need to see…so fucking weak. **_

_ I fight against my body's wishes, forcing my eyes to open, wincing at the bright light in the room. There is nothing I can see that tells me where I am, but I can feel the surface beneath me, soft and comfortable. I tilt my head, even the slight motion leaves me exhausted. My vision clears and the woman who stands at the doorway turns around. _

_ Her hair is the color of pure gold, beautiful, even though it is lank and sticking to her skin, held in place by a layer of sweat. Her features are soft, a heart shaped face with prominent cheekbones; her small, upturned nose sits above a pair of supple, pink lips. She is shorter than me by a half a head, her frame slight and willowy. She wears a simple dress, covered by a white apron soaked in splotches of blood. _

_**My…blood…**_

_ "Well hello there." she sees that my eyes are open and sits at the edge of a bed. I attempt to pull away, uncertain of her intentions. _

_ Betrayal is close in my mind at this moment. I have given everything I knew, and had it flung back into my face and shoved into my body against my will. __**I tried…I tried so **__**hard**__**. Why was it not enough, Marjolaine? Why did you want…why did you want that life? Why? Where did I go wrong? **_

_ "Stay still." she cautions, and a gentle, feather light touch lands on my shoulder. "You are in the Chantry in Val Royeaux. Cyril and I brought you here after we found you in the alley. Do you remember?"_

_ "Yes." my voice scratches out of my throat and I curl into myself as my body spasms with coughing. _

_ "Shit." she curses, sounding unlike any sister of the Chantry I have ever before heard. She rises from the bed and vanishes from my line of sight, returning shortly after with a cup of water. _

_ "Drink it slowly." she orders, holding the cup to my lips. _

_ Obedient, I sip the water, thankful as it eases down my abused throat and washes away the taste of copper and salt. _

_ "Excellent." the sister comments. Her fingers reach toward my face and I recoil, afraid of her touch. Immediately, she pulls her hand away, holding it before my eyes, fingers spread apart. "I mean you no harm, I promise."_

_**Maker's breath…**__all thought vanishes as I meet her eyes for the first time. __**Such a shade of green…can it even exist? Like a glacier of new life…like magic itself. **_

_ "What is your name?" she asks, a tender smile perched on her perfect lips. _

_ The pain in my chest makes me fear speech, but I owe her at least my identity. "K…Kathyra." I can scarcely speak above a whisper. _

_ "What happened to you, Kathyra?" she inquires, and fear fills me again. _

_**In the Chantry…the law must have been called…and how do I know…how do I know that she intends to leave me be. I cannot…cannot endure prison. I can trust no one; I know that now. **_

_I shake my head in minute movements, unwilling to tell her the cause of my injuries, still too close to my heart. _

_ "Were you attacked?" she inquires further, deepening my distrust. _

_**No…not attacked…betrayed. I was…heavens, hells, and angels, I was the **__**attacker**__**. I intended to draw my own sister's blood. Could this…could this have been but a misunderstanding? Did Marjolaine not want me dead…oh Maker, what have I done? **_

_ "No." _

_ Her eyebrows lift, an obvious tell of disbelief. "I see." her eyes, instead of hardening…soften. "For now, it does not matter. You came very close to losing your life, Kathyra. By the Maker's grace, I was able to save you, but your recovery is in your hands. I need you to rest now, all right? Call for me if you need anything."_

_**I…I do not even know…**_

_ "Name?" I ask, not able to breathe deeply enough to manage more words. _

_ A self-deprecating smile curves her lips again. "Of course." she shakes her head and tucks her hair behind her ear…too pointed an ear for a human, but not that of an elf, either. "I am a physician." the term is unfamiliar to me. "And my name is Giselle."_

_ Something in the back of my mind tells me that I should be grateful, that I should thank her for saving my life…but my life seems to have no meaning. Not any longer…a dog, freed from cruel masters and killed by its family. _

_**I have been trained for death and for secrets…where would I have gone, had my own blade not pierced me? I have…nothing to turn to. Forgive me, Giselle…I cannot offer gratitude. Not without knowing your intentions.**_

* * *

"Lieutenant? Lieutenant?" a voice, close in worry.

I looked into glimmering viridian eyes, a shade of green that should not exist. "Giselle?" I asked, confused, wondering if I were still locked inside my memories.

"No, ma'am." the eyes filled with concern. "It's Kestrel. Are you all right?"

Cool fingers rested on my brow and I hissed at the drastic shift in temperature.

"Maker's breath, you're burning up." the templar private breathed. "I have to find Leliana. I will return soon, I promise."

The young woman rose and left with hurried footfalls, leaving me alone with tears in my eyes.

_None other's eyes should be that color_, my irrational mind thought. _It is…it is too heartbreaking. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Kathyra**

"It is as I feared." Leliana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Too quickly though. This is all happening too quickly!"

"Leliana, what is it?" Kestrel asked, looking from Rylie to me with those heart-breaking eyes.

The red-haired woman remained silent, keeping her hand in place, not flinching as the templar private rested a hand on her shoulder.

_How is it…_I wondered as Leliana reached up and squeezed Kestrel's hand with her own…_that you do not fear touch? I know Marjolaine wounded you, that she cut you off from trust in humanity as surely as she did me. How is it…how is it that you find yourself healed, Leliana? _

"I expected infection, but not so soon." Leliana locked her eyes with mine, screaming an apology, begging me to remain calm, to not worry. "It will be all right though. It must be."

_If death chooses to come for me…_I sighed and grappled with my will to live…_I think…at last…I can find myself reconciled to it. I have seen_, I smiled for Leliana's sake, wishing to alleviate the underlying worry in her gaze, _that the love that preserves the world…still exists. _

"Don't…don't make a fuss." I whispered. "It…means enough…that you tried."

"No." Leliana shakes her head, fierce. "You do not get the luxury of giving up. Not yet, Kathyra. Keep fighting and I promise you, I will not lose."

A dull ache began between my temples and I hissed as it throbbed painfully behind my eyes. "Those…words…aren't…yours."

"No, they are not." she agreed, pressing her fingers to my neck, measuring my pulse. "They were Salem's first."

_Salem Cousland…the woman who holds your heart. The woman who managed to kill a god…with such a vision before you, Leliana…why would you even look at another in kindness? _

"They make no sense." Kestrel muttered.

The templar private's brow creased in confusion as she attempted to understand what Leliana had said, but I felt no lack of comprehension. I knew exactly how the former bard had meant them, how the warden must have meant them when first they left her lips.

"Belief…rarely ever…makes sense." I breathed, recalling a time when I had lost all belief, when everything had been ruled by logic, reason, that which was tangible and real.

When I had no reason to indulge the beautiful monster known as hope.

* * *

_When next I open my eyes, dim sunlight filters through the window. I feel hollow and empty, though the pressure on my chest has eased some. My side throbs with a dull ache, hurting worse as I breathe deeply. I push myself up against the pillow, ceasing as I feel a line of fire rip along my ribs and down my leg. I collapse, breathing heavily, feeling sweat break out on my forehead. _

_ The door opens and the woman I remember, as if from the briefest of dreams, enters. Her eyes fix on mine and her brow creases in what might be concern. I do not trust myself, in this weakened state, to read emotions as adeptly as I once could._

_**Or perhaps my skill was a delusion as well. After all…I should have known Marjolaine was perpetrating a ruse…she would not even embrace me in greeting. How could I have been so **__**stupid**__**!?**_

_ "It took two days, but at last you are awake." it is the same airy voice that I remember from fevered dreaming, always with a soothing word or a scathing defense. "Annnnd," she draws closer to the bed and her lips purse in a frown, "you tried to move."_

_ "Gi…Giselle?" I ask, recalling her smile, her voice, and those __**eyes**__. _

_ The frown fades and she sits beside me, careful to maintain distance between us. "I am surprised you remember." she comments. "How do you feel?"_

_**Reveal no weaknesses. Any vulnerability, perceived or otherwise, **__**will**__** be used against you. **_

_"Fine." I lie, attempting to wipe the expression of pain from my face, to build a mask as I have so often before._

_ "I suppose you know best." Giselle shrugs and rises as if to depart. "Very well then. You are free to leave whenever you wish, Kathyra. Far be it from me to hold you against your will."_

_ She turns her back and I throw the covers off, determined to leave, to get as far from this place as possible. With careful, measured movements, I place my feet on the floor and stand. My chest heaves with the effort it takes to breathe and the world spins in front of me, but I close my eyes and grit my teeth, hell-bent on fleeing, hiding, never speaking to another, never letting another hand near me. _

_ I take a step and the pain hits, fresh as when the knife entered my skin. My knees buckle and I fall to the floor, unable to bite back a cry of pain. I lay on the floor, clutching my side, attempting to breathe, to retain consciousness. Black streaks across my vision, with only gleaming, ice-green eyes standing out in the darkness. _

_ "You…you knew." I accuse her. "Why…why would you let me do this?"_

_ "Would you thank me for keeping you here, or resent me?" Giselle inquires as she drops to her knees beside me. "I can only help you so far as you will allow me, Kathyra. If you refuse to believe you are safe, who am I to convince you any different? If you insist on lying about your health, who am I to tell you that you are injured?"_

_ I push myself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the bed, hissing through clenched teeth as a nauseating wave of agony rolls over me. _

_ "Now, will you accept my help?" she inquires._

_ "Yes." I whimper, though every instinct screams to run, to fight, to not let another's hand near me. _

_ "I will have to touch you, Kathyra." Giselle says, and her voice rings with an emotion I have not heard since my mother spoke to me, so long ago…_

_**Patience. **_

_ "All right." I acquiesce, closing my eyes as she wraps her arm around my shoulders and lifts me, easing me onto the bed. _

_ Darts of fire shoot through my lungs and I begin to gasp for air, able to take only the shallowest of breaths. A small, delicate hand slips beneath the bend of my knees and lifts them, stretching my legs out and helping me back down onto the pillow. Shame fills me as tears pour down my cheeks and I bite my lip, attempting to stave off the pain. _

_ "Breathe slowly." she orders. "And not too deep. You might undo all my work."_

_ There is a note of jest in her voice, but I cannot appreciate the humor as I fight to control my breathing. Again I fight a war within myself, wondering where the woman who would have thanked her had disappeared to. _

_ "Kathyra, I need to check your injuries and make certain that you haven't torn your stitches. Can I do this? Can I touch you again?"_

_ Tears fill my eyes and I close them as I nod my head. The chill in the air bites my skin as she lifts my shirt, and the pain worsens as she removes the bandages and probes the wound with light fingertips. I begin to shake as her hand rests beneath my breast, gauging the rise and fall of my chest. My tears flow freely as I wait for the agony to end. Not the pain of my injuries, freshly awakened by my stupidity, but the intimate anguish of having another's flesh on mine. _

_ No hands had touched me since my parent's death but that they desired something. My body, my time, my submission. The comfort of my sister's embrace had been my last refuge, and even that had been denied. Every muscle spasms as Giselle continues her examination. _

_ "I am sorry." she whispers. "So very, very sorry."_

_ "Stop." I beg, the word emerging on a sob. "Please, stop."_

_ "Kathyra, some of your stitches were torn. I need…"_

_ "Just take your hands away." I beg, feeling blood drain from my face. "Don…don't touch me, __**please**__ stop touching me."_

_ She withdraws her hands and pulls the blankets up to my waist as my body continues to tremble. "Kathyra, I need to stop the bleeding." her voice does not rise in anger, instead it is calm, soothing. "Please let me help you."_

_ "Not worth it." I gasp into the pillow. "Not worth it."_

_ "Kathyra, please…" she entreats, and I feel the burn of skin against skin once more._

_ I slap her hand away and rise. "**Don't**__!" I shout, doubling over as pain rips through my chest and I begin coughing until I gag, breathing too fast and unable to stop._

_ "Kathyra, breathe." Giselle's unearthly eyes fill with worry and her hands hover, desperate to do something, anything, but I cannot __**bear**__ the feel of them again. "You are going to faint, Kathyra. Listen…__**listen**__ to me, please!"_

_ I shake my head as pressure builds in my chest and black hovers in my vision again. "Let…it…happen." I gasp. "Then do…what you…must."_

_ Giselle reaches for me as my eyes roll backward and the blissful torment of unconsciousness washes over me again. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Kathyra**

_I lie awake and stare at the glow of the moon on the ceiling. I have been awake for at least a candlemark now, watching the shadows dance in the glow of the fire. There is a dull ache in my side and my lung, reminding me that, should I try to leave, I will fail, and suffer for the failing. _

_ "This cannot continue." I hear a harsh voice…an older woman. "You are neglecting your duties, and it __**has**__ been noticed."_

_ "You mean that Cyril is offended at my retraction of his apprenticeship, and has appealed to his father, the Duke." the tone I have memorized as Giselle's comes through the closed door. "I have no patience for your politicking, therefore this argument is pointless."_

_ "Do not try my patience, Sister Giselle, and do not insult the nobility in my presence. **Your** presence here is due __**entirely**__ to your father's good name and title, Maker rest his soul." the aged voice speaks again, more volume, more vehemence. "I have kept you from undue prejudice, you would do well to remember that favors of this magnitude are not without their price."_

_ I inwardly cringe as the stranger speaks the knowledge that all bards are forced to learn early on. Nothing is given. Nothing is free, and things that appear in that guise are those which cost more than their worth. _

_**How much will I be forced to pay for my treatment? **__I wonder, idly worrying the blankets with my fingers. _

_ Giselle laughs and I strain to detect notes of derision or mockery, instead hearing nothing but mirth. _

_ "Undue prejudice, Mother Dorothea?" Giselle inquires. "I will not apologize for my laughter, for you obviously are under delusions as to your powers in this case."_

_ I can see the situation in my mind's eye, the narrowing of the gaze, thinning of the lips, all minute gestures of disapproval that cloud silence such as the one I listen to. _

_ "I am pinned betwixt two minds, Sister Giselle." the stranger's voice loses a slight measure of its former heat. "You are the best I have seen in this unstudied field, and to lose you would deal an immense amount of damage to the good works we are able, in our current state, to pursue. However, I cannot afford to give insult to the Duke de Montfort. You know as well as I that the duke has the empress' ear, __**and **__the Divine's."_

_ "I am not a proponent of compromise, Mother Dorothea." Giselle states, and my heartbeat quickens. _

_**One who does not know compromise does not know mercy. It is as I thought…I cannot trust her. **_

_ "Then accept an ultimatum." the woman named as Dorothea orders. "If you do not find a new apprentice within the next seven days, you will return to tutoring Cyril. I can weave a convincing enough tale within that amount of time to placate Duke de Montfort."_

_ "You are smiling, Revered Mother." Giselle's tone is dark. "It is obvious that you think I will be unsuccessful."_

_ "If it takes true calling, as you seem to believe, to become a physician, then your assumption is not incorrect." I can envision the smug expression stamped on the Revered Mother's face…I know, for I have worn it myself. "Good day, sister. Go in the Maker's grace."_

_ The door swings open and Giselle enters, running her hands through her hair, muttering a string of decidedly un-sisterly epithets._

_ "…grace of the __**fucking**__ silent god." _

_ "Is…is everything all right?" I ask, thinking that I should at least attempt civility, draw her in, learn from her what she desires and evade payment. _

_ Giselle glances up and her lips widen in a smile. I could find such a smile beautiful…if I knew what lay behind it. _

_ "Awake at last." she says in lieu of greeting. "And with color in your cheeks. Damned if I don't do good work."_

_**Be friendly, Kathyra**_**, **_I give myself a stern lecture. __**Speak with her; **__**learn**__._

_ "For a sister of the Chantry, you have quite the coarse tongue." my tone is flat and I chastise myself. _

_**Where is the ease with which I once flung words of humor and seduction? Who is this monotone, fearful woman who has stolen my voice?**_

_ "Pffft." she blows air through her teeth in a dismissive manner as she sorts through the plethora of glass vials on the shelf. "My vows were a formality…an attempt to rein me into Chantry structure, since it is beneath their providence that I am able to persist in my profession, and the vultures wish to keep it so."_

_ "Then why do you continue with them, play their games?" I attempt to detach myself from the question, but find it too near to the inquiries I have posed to myself on far too many occasions. "Why not open a…a clinic…or whatever the term may be?" _

_ Giselle's form stiffens and she sighs, relaxing the tension in her shoulders. "I cannot legally own property." she says, blithe. "As you must have overheard, I am given the opportunity to practice simply because my father was a wealthy man and a lesser noble, but I am the product of his dalliance with an elven servant and therefore I have no rights, despite my education and skills."_

_ "You are half-elven?" I ask, stunned by the revelation. _

_**I have met very few of them, embroiled in bitterness, living in squalor, not accepted by either half of their heritage. **_

_ "As they come." she turns to me with a dazzling grin and holds a glass vial aloft. "But you should not be worrying yourself with my troubles, Kathyra. Concentrate on getting well."_

_ "I…I feel a bit…stronger?" I mumble as she takes her customary seat at the edge of the bed. "You needn't keep looking after me, not if you are suffering for it." _

_ Giselle waves a dismissive hand. "Let Dorothea huff and puff. It's good for her; gives her a sense of…oh, I don't know…authority?" the roguish grin reveals the flash of a single dimple in her left cheek. "I am self-educated and self-taught, and no shemlen shrew will threaten me and succeed. Posture though she might, I __**will**__ find an apprentice and send Cyril scuttling back under Duke Prosper's petticoats. The worm has delusions of being some 'great healer' and to be frank, I've no time to cater to his whims. You'll forgive me for my belief that no noble smarm could be content covered in blood and sweat and sick."_

_**She is so strong**__, I watch as her hands fidget, as though they yearn to be put to use. __**She has carved herself a place in a world that has no room for her kind. To have such potential…to remain unbroken. I…I want that? **_

_ "And you are?" I question, wondering why a woman, self-educated and self-taught, who could rise above the servant's life her birth dictated…would __**choose**__ to serve. _

_ "I am…I am good with my hands, with mending things…always was." Giselle uncorks the vial and sniff's the contents, seeming satisfied as she takes a cup from the nightstand and adds a few drops of the substance into it. "And I am possessed of a singularly curious nature. My father might not have been able to leave me property or wealth, but," she winks, "he always left his library unlocked. I would sneak in as a child and pore over the books, learning herbalism, anatomy, __**everything**__ I could get my hands on. As fate would have it, embroidery has more uses than adorning handkerchiefs."_

_ I find myself laughing and put a hand to my side as the pain deepens, feeling the raised edges of the wound and the thread holding my skin together. "So it would seem."_

_ "Drink this." she hands me the cup._

_ I hold it to my nose, attempting to smell any poisons or sedatives she might have added. _

_ "Chickweed oil." she informs me. "It will help keep down the swelling and also prevent an infection of the blood."_

_ With wary eyes, I look at her as I drink the water, wincing at the bitter hint of what must be the herb. Without a word, I hand the cup back to her. She turns it in her hand, examining it with what seems like great interest. _

_ "You do not trust me, do you?" she asks, a question so direct that I find myself stumbling over a torrent of conflicting thoughts. _

_ "No." I answer, remembering that, when I had purchased my freedom, I wanted to go from thence and live as an __**honest**__ woman. _

_ "With that in mind…" she frowns as she returns the cup to the nightstand, "…I told you before, I will not keep you against your will. Is there anyone I can notify? Anyone who can take proper care of you…a friend…a relative, perhaps?"_

_ Tears prick the back of my eyes and I fight against them, to conceal my emotion, my pain, my fear. "No." I rasp though a lump in my throat. "I…I have no one."_

_ The concrete reminder of all that I have lost crashes in on me again and I begin to shake as I repress tears, emotion, the heart that longs to scream. Giselle holds my eyes and I see the war within her as she struggles against her very nature, as she folds hands that would reach out in comfort into her lap and laces her fingers together. _

_ "You can stay here for your recovery, Kathyra." she tells me, attempting a smile. "Hopefully, I can prove worthy of your trust."_

_ I shake my head, letting my hair shield my face. "Do not waste time with a losing battle, Giselle."_

_ "Ha!" she exclaims, rising and holding the vial aloft like a sword. "I do not fight but that I win!"_

_**You won't**__, my darker voice whispers as a cold chill shudders down my spine. __**You will not win this, Giselle. You cannot fight to preserve…what has already been lost. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Kathyra**

"Sorry," a quiet apology. "My…my hands will not seem to stop shaking."

"Quite all right." I wondered how it was possible for Leliana to smile, but I could hear it in her words, see it even though my vision was blurry. "If I am not mistaken, that was the last of them."

"Thank the Maker's twisted grace." Kestrel heaved a sigh, setting aside a small, sharp knife. "Bandaging?"

"No need. The wounds are inconsequential. So long as the splinters are removed, they should heal fine." Leliana reached out and took the templar private's hand. "What did I tell you about resting, Kestrel? You look exhausted."

"I tried." she shook her head. "Nightmares…it…it isn't safe, Leliana. Please understand."

Leliana's brows creased and the blue in her eyes turned to a faraway sky, as though she looked into a different life, a different universe, years and seasons away from where we were. "I do." her voice had a soft tremor to it, the unintended vibrato of a violin.

_How many nightmares have you endured, Leliana, _I wondered, amazed at the look of composure that never left her face, the tight calm in the set of her lips. _Did you…did you have one kind enough to wake you from them? Or were you alone? _

"How is Kathyra?" Kestrel's soft voice broke my moment of reverie.

A warm hand pressed against my forehead and smoothed back my hair in a gentle motion. "Her temperature hasn't risen." Leliana answered, and I could hear the tangible exhaustion in her words. "But this is a brief respite in a losing battle."

Grief caught in my throat as I heard her words, the first doubts that had ever crossed her lips. Tears began to gather behind my closed eyes, but I did not allow them to fall.

"Leliana, surely you…"

"Of course not." she interrupted. "I refuse to shy away from the truth of the matter, but I have also seen miracles, Kestrel. I have seen so many losing battles won…by those who stood no chance of victory."

Grief shone out from the templar private's eyes and her voice was barely above a whisper, "You wish the warden were here?"

The shadow cast by the oil lamp nodded. "Yes. But I believe that we all have those that we wish were here, hale and hearty, full of their strength and comfort."

_Yours still lives, _sorrow filled me and for the first time, I forced myself back into memories, kinder than the present, full of hope…and death of the same.

* * *

_"One day left, Sister Giselle." Mother Dorothea's voice comes from the open doorway, taunting, haughty, not at all like a leader of the Chantry should speak. "Have you found your new apprentice?"_

_ "Not as of yet, Revered Mother, but I trust that the Creators will provide." _

_ "None of your elvish heresy beneath this roof." Dorothea orders, heat in her voice. _

_ I cower beneath the covers, dreading the confrontation soon to come, as it has every day, from one source or another. Watching Giselle struggle to merely keep her place, to practice her hard-learned art, to __**help**__ those less fortunate, had torn at my very soul. She remained remarkably kind, mindful of my needs, keeping her hands separate from my body unless absolutely necessary. Her touch had begun to burn less, though I still feared it, hating my body as it rebelled, my heart as it beat faster, my gut as it twisted in dread. _

_ "Do you hear my complaints of your blind fanaticism for your Maker?" Giselle asks, all innocence and a sweet smile. "No? I thought not. Do me the courtesy of the same."_

_ "You are in the house of the Maker!" Dorothea thunders. "Still your heretic's tongue!"_

_ "Why?" Giselle inquires again. "No one would hear it beneath your verbose bluster, Mother Dorothea. Would it be an imposition to ask you to lower your voice? My patient is still recovering. She needs her rest."_

_ "And __**I**__ need my chief healer to attend to her duties." Dorothea's voice is ice, though much quieter; Giselle has won a small victory, even though neither woman realizes it. _

_ "Have I been absent from the Chantry clinics?" Giselle puts a finger to her lower lip in pretend contemplation. _

_ "No." the word is a growl. "But you cannot allow a single patient to divert your focus. Your mind is split in two directions, Sister Giselle, it does not behoove you to separate yourself from your 'calling'."_

_ "I am __**following**__ my calling." Giselle's voice remains even, as it must when dealing with humans…humans who despise her for a heritage that is not her doing, not her fault. "If you are too ignorant to see…"_

_ "Cease those words before you earn my further ire." Dorothea warns. "And your day is gone. Find a new apprentice by sunset, or you __**will**__ begin training Cyril de Montfort once again. I will prove your Creators…"_

_ "As silent and ineffectual as your Maker?" Giselle questions._

_ Dorothea flings the door shut before Giselle can utter another word. _

_ "Unctuous bitch!" Giselle slams the side of her fist against the door._

_ I push the covers aside and Giselle turns to me, alarm in the eyes that I have come to regard as beautiful, though the care and concern I see in them terrifies me to no end. Marjolaine had worn those emotions in her eyes, once…she had taken care of me when I had returned to Leron with minor injuries. She had sung me to sleep after I had awoken from a slumber filled with nightmares. _

_ "Kathyra! Andraste's ass, did I wake you? You're so pale…" she stepped closer and I drew the sheets about me as though they offered protection. Giselle saw the movements, minute as they were, and stopped short, her lips pursing in a frown, her eyes anguished. "I…I'm sorry, Kathyra. Do forgive me."_

_ "It…it's all right." I stammer, unused to apology from any quarter. "Do not…do not worry over me."_

_ "I do worry for you." she sits at the edge of the bed and stares at me with those intense, fiery eyes. "You are my patient…and I…"_

_ "You cannot put so much import on one human life…especially not mine." I shake my head. "You said two days ago that I am healed enough to leave."_

_ "Against my better judgment." Giselle counters. "And I can place import on whatever life I so choose. You…you will not listen to a word I say, will you?"_

_ I draw my knees up to my chest, wincing at the slight pain, pain that has faded under Giselle's care. "I do not know if this is any consolation, Giselle…but I __**do**__ listen. It is…it is the believing that is difficult, and…"_

_ "And not your fault." Giselle places a hand near my feet, close, but not touching. "You have been hurt, Kathyra, not just in body, but in your mind and soul. Can you believe me when I say I would appreciate the opportunity to mend those as well?"_

_ My body begins to tremble from a different sort of fear. Fear that she is telling the truth, that if I allow her, Giselle will continue in her myriad kindnesses, her comforting words, her beautiful intentions. She is a woman unlike any I have ever known, and there is a tender, bruised part of my heart that wishes to accept her words as truth, with no ulterior motives, no underlying causation to make it so. _

_ "I…I want to." I breathe. _

_ "That is enough for me." she smiles, and I see a new light in her eyes, so bright and damning that it causes me to fear my own decision, question the rightness of it._

_ I had wanted to believe Leron when he offered me and Marjolaine shelter, food, a family and a life. Security. I had wanted to believe that Marjolaine was kept safe from the horrors of the bardic world by my actions. I had wanted to believe my sister when she had embraced me…the last time we saw each other…the last time I had failed her. _

_ "Oh, Giselllle." a haughty, arrogant voice sing-songs and the door bursts open. I remember the voice from the night of my injury._

_ Cyril de Montfort saunters into the room, and I glance out of the window, watching as the sky begins to take on the rosy hue of sunset. Giselle rises, alarm in her eyes as she squares off against the man, who is not only taller and stronger, but a blooded noble, son of a man too powerful for his own good. _

_ I had met Duke Prosper de Montfort, and found him an imbecilic waste of humanity. I could not imagine that the son he had fathered would be anything unlike the man who raised him. _

_ "Get out of here, Cyril." Giselle orders, rising and standing, casting a figure of command. "I am in the midst of consultation with a patient, and your presence is not warranted."_

_ "Oh, I think it is." he says, snide. "Mother Dorothea told me of her agreement with you. The sun is setting, and I am to return to my place as your pupil, though it __**will**__ be under different circumstances. For the first, you will address me as Lord de Montfort, as you __**should have**__ from the beginning. Second…"_

_ "You will seal your lips and Get. Out." Giselle commands, and the steel in her voice is frightening. "The sun has not yet set, and I have not yet failed."_

_ "You think I will continue to listen to the snubs and jibes of a __**half-elf**__?" Cyril demands. "It seemed a game at first, but I have long since fallen out of love with your invalid superior attitude towards me. It. Ends. Now. Giselle."_

_ "It ends when I say it does, and not a moment before!" Giselle's eyes are fire, green and radiant and terrifying. I continue to shrink away, until Cyril commits a further transgression. _

_ His hand lashes out, catching Giselle across the cheek, his heavy signet ring breaking skin. The physician falls to her knees from the impact and Cyril looms above her, kicking her in the shoulder, leaving her sprawled on the ground. _

_ "__**This**__ is as it should be." he claims. "With you in a position of submission before me. You are not fit to lick the dirt from my boots, Giselle. Stand up." she does not comply, instead breathing heavily and placing her hand against her cheek. "__**Stand. Up.**__" the lordling orders again. _

_ Giselle remains motionless and Cyril reaches down, grasping her lovely golden hair and wrenching her to her knees. Fear settles in the pit of my stomach and coils to a knot of wrath and fire. I had known a stronger person's blows, their fists in my hair, their body invading where it had no right. _

_**No one deserves such treatment. And I…I will not watch as the one person who has shown me **__**any**__** kindness suffers at the hands of another. **_

_ I grit my teeth and rise from the bed with fluid, bardic grace. I curl my hand into a fist and plant it with as much force as I can muster at the base of Cyril's breastbone. He gasps and his hand releases Giselle as he falls to his knees, struggling to breathe. I bring my knee up under his chin and snap his head backwards, rendering him confused, but not unconscious. _

_ My lungs burn as I breathe, too heavily. "You," I rein in my voice, feeling my tone drip with black ice, "will __**not**__ lay a hand on her."_

_ "Do…you…know…who…I…am?" Cyril rasps, attempting to get to his feet, falling on his backside instead. _

_ "Yes." I go to one knee, looking him direct in the eye, knowing that my gaze is filled with the blood I have shed and the deeds I have done. "I __**kill**__ your kind."_

_ Blood drains from his face and he scrabbles backwards. I rise to my feet, shaky, and follow him as he flees the room, slamming the door behind him. I lean heavily on the door, breathing in ragged gasps, watching black dance before my vision. My muscles spasm with the pain of too much activity too soon and I slide down the door, leaning against it, attempting to slow my rapid breaths. _

_ "Kathyra?" Giselle's voice is a cry. "Kathyra!" _

_ She gets to her feet and rushes over, kneeling beside me. "Are you all right? Kathyra, look at me, are you all right?"_

_ I stare at my shaking hands as bile rises in my throat, thinking of how easily I had, even wounded, driven Cyril to the ground and instilled in him a fear for his life. It is my only skill, the taking of life, the inspiring of fear. It is all I have to turn to the moment I leave the Chantry and embark on life anew. _

_ "I do not want this any longer." I whisper, watching as the setting sun paints my hands the scarlet hue of blood. _

_ "Kathyra?" _

_ I look to the sound of her voice, to the light in her viridian eyes, the absolute purity shining from her, despite her bruised and bloodied cheek, her tousled golden tresses. _

_ "Gi…Giselle." I push myself further against the door, hissing through my teeth as the pain returns. "L…let it be me. Teach me…apprentice me."_

_ Tears line the base of her eyes and one falls, cutting a clear path through the blood on her skin…purifying it again. "Yes." her voice is filled with quiet glee. "Of course yes. You should be in bed, Kathyra. Please let me help you."_

_ "All right." I accept, knowing that the favor I had asked of her will require more touch between us, her hands on mine, teaching, guiding. _

_ Giselle fits her arm around my waist and I stand on watery legs, staggering towards the bed and collapsing onto it with a groan. _

_ "Thank you, Kathyra." Giselle takes advantage of the moment and smoothes my hair away from my face with a quick, though tender, movement. _

_**Do not thank me, Giselle**__, I want to tell her the truth, that I have not been fair in asking this favor of her. __**For I have asked you to do something that none could ever manage…nor ever will.**_

_** Save me, Giselle. Please, please save me. **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Kathyra**

_"Excellent work." Giselle kneels beside me and examines the sutures I have just completed. Her eyes smile when she looks at me, her eyes, but nothing else. A furious blush creeps into my cheeks at the approval and I duck my head, uncertain of how to deal with the emotion her expression incites within me. _

_ Giselle looks at the young elf woman and smiles at her. Immediately, the patient's tense demeanor relaxes and she even offers a timid smile. _

_ "Feel better?" she asks, and the elf nods. Giselle rests her hand on the patient's knee and I wince, wishing with vain hope that I could allow such a casual caress; that the touch of another did not make me shrink away, or remember the nightmare I had somehow escaped. "Good," Giselle continues, "now, and tell me true, did you actually cut your hand on broken glass?"_

_ "Yes, sister." the elf's lips quiver. "I promise."_

_ Giselle frowns. "Very well, my dear, but remember, there are always kinder masters who could use someone of your skill. The Empress has laws in place that protect slaves, and no matter what your masters say, you can always seek sanctuary at the Chantry. Do you understand?"_

_ "Yes, sister." the elf nods._

_ Giselle helps her to her feet and places a small jar in her hands. "This is a salve. Put it on the wound at least twice daily, to help prevent infection. If it should get infected, return here immediately. If not, return in a fortnight and we will remove the stitches. Creators guide you and keep you."_

_ "T…thank you, sister." the elf stammers, overwhelmed, as I have found myself the past month, by the enormity of Giselle's kindness. _

_ "Think nothing of it." Giselle guides her to the door and I watch as the elf departs and Giselle closes the door, sighing and sagging against it, as though drained. _

_ "Giselle, are you all right?" I ask, rising and rinsing the blood from my hands, looking away as I always must, lest the sight remind me of times not too long past, when the blood on my skin meant I had taken life, not preserved it. _

_ "A little tired." she replies straightening and arranging her robe. "Nothing to cause too much concern."_

_ I desire to go to her, to take her face in my hands, assess her condition, but I cannot. It is easier with a patient, a complete stranger in need of aid. But…with Giselle…it would be different. _

_**There would be…intimacy? The way she looks at me, with such tenderness and concern…it strikes a spark in a soul too long cold, but I cannot dare to believe it; I cannot dare to pursue it. I have only ever been broken by those who offered a gentle touch, and what she has given me, she gives to all who see her. I am her student…nothing more. **_

_ "You truly are suited to this, you know." Giselle speaks, closer to me than before. I flinch at her nearness and nearly curse aloud as I see the apologies in her eyes. _

_ "I have an excellent teacher." I mumble the compliment and pre-occupy myself with drying my hands. _

_ "__**That**__ you do." Giselle smiles and somehow the day is a little brighter than it was before. "But you also have gentle hands, Kathyra, and a manner that sets people at ease. It took Cyril six months to acquire the knowledge you have gained in one."_

_ "I am…I am accustomed to learning quickly." I mutter, letting my hair shield my face, afraid that she will see the ghosts of bruises and blood through which I earned my talents. _

_ "I see." Giselle says, careful, unwilling to ask the questions I can see behind her eyes. _

_ One month, and I have still told her nothing of my past. __**And again, **__I chastise myself, __**fear is the culprit. If such a good woman knew who I was, what I have done…she would surely terminate what she has given me. A chance at new life. I am…I am too selfish. I want this; I want to be able to help, to save.**_

_ "Why…why did you ask the elf if her story was true?" I wonder, guiding the subject away from the uncomfortable topic of my silence. _

_ Giselle's lips purse in a frown. "You've no idea the amount of elven slaves that come through here, suffering from a beating at their master's hands." her voice heats with anger and her eyes flash with wrath. "I…I __**hurt**__ for their ignorance, Kathyra. It is true what I said, that the Empress has laws in place that govern the treatment of slaves, but most of the city elves here are illiterate and kept so by their bloodthirsty masters. They have no opportunity to learn that they are protected. I have an obligation to help them; they…they are my people."_

_ "But you harbor no hatred for the masters?" I ask, intrigued by her use of words. "The depravity of the race of men does not affect you?"_

_ Giselle sighs and looks into the distance. "I am only in a position to help because of my human blood and heritage." she rationalizes, as one who has thought deeply over the matter might. "I am part and parcel with two races…pinned between two cultures and ways of life. And I grieve for the horrors wrought…but I do what I can to help."_

_ The sorrow in her voice calls to me, begging for an answer, a wound naked and crying out to be healed. _

_ "I…I do not know if this will help, but…but elves are not the only ones enslaved by cruel masters. Men…men have met this fate themselves. What you do, what you are teaching me to do…it is more than you realize."_

_ Giselle smiles, but her expression becomes distant and I can see questions aligning behind her eyes, an answer coming to the forefront. My heart begins to hammer in my chest, my gut twists in fear._

_ "You…you were a slave?" she asks. I take a step backward and her eyes fill with anguish. "Kathyra, no, please…please don't run. I...I will not ask any more questions, I swear it. Please," she reaches out, pulling her fingers back with a look of pain as she sees the pallor of my skin. _

_**Stay**__, I fight every instinct I possess to merely hold my ground. __**It has been a month, and she has done nothing to earn your distrust. **_

_ "In…in a manner…" I stutter, beginning to tremble as the confession burns on the tip of my tongue. "I…I was apprentice to…to a cruel man."_

_ "Is he the one who stabbed you?" Giselle inquires, keeping her voice even, though I read her body, the narrowing of her gaze, the idle flexing of her fingers…she is __**angry**__. On my behalf?_

_ "No." I shake my head, dizzied by the waves of emotion, of forcibly repressed memories that come screaming to the forefront. "I…I need…a moment alone. F…forgive me, Giselle."_

_ I attempt to control myself so that I do not flee from her presence. My hand shakes as it grasps the door and I grip it, attempting to calm my breathing and settle my nerves. _

_ "Kathyra," Giselle calls, quiet, "will…will you ever tell me who it was?"_

_ I lean my head against the door as tears pound like drums behind my eyes. "Yes." I reply. "Someday, I will tell you."_

_ "Kathyra, forgive me, but I…I have to know. Are you…are you safe from him? Are you safe here?"_

_ I turn my eyes to her, startled that there are tears there. "I am…I am safe with you, Giselle."_

_ I leave the room before she can reply and I sag against the door, letting loose a shuddering breath. But my heartbeat calms as it realizes that I told her the truth. I do feel safe with her. But I fear that if I tell her of my past, of the circles in which I had traveled, that she would no longer feel safe with me. And that…that terrifies me beyond telling. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Kathyra**

"What do we do now?" Kestrel asked.

I turned my head to see her and Leliana, leaning against the wall of the cabin, both of them staring into separate distances.

"We wait. We pray. We endure." Leliana rests her hand on Kestrel's knee. "This is a moment and a time you will face all too often, should you persist as a templar. Lives are lost in battle. Those…those we love are tormented by the spectre of death as it haunts their every waking moment…it rests in their eyes and looks out, a prophesy to the world of what we can never escape."

_How deep is your capacity for love_, I wondered as I listened to her words, words tinged by grief and hope and desperate, fragile memories. _How can you look into the eyes I saw that night in Highever, eyes that chilled me to my core, so cold were they, so rife with death's own essence? _

"I…I couldn't see that happen to her." Kestrel looks to Rylie's sleeping form. "I'll do anything, Leliana, _anything_ to see that she retains her joy…her innocence."

"While that is admirable, she will not thank you for it." Leliana cautioned. "Keep her joy and her innocence within you, locked in your memory, safe and secure…for the moment when she needs it most. It is…it is so easy to lose your way in the world, whether soldier or templar, noble or bard."

"You speak as one who has lost their way." Kestrel observed.

Instead of hanging her head, Leliana lifted her chin, resolute, unafraid, _staggeringly_ beautiful. "So many times." she agreed. "But not just my way…I lost myself. Until that moment, that moment where I looked upon one who reminded me of all that I _desired_ to be, who let me learn and accept parts of who I was that I thought worthy of revulsion."

"The one with death in her eyes?" Kestrel asked, showing her eerie powers of perception.

"The one who walks with death as a friend, harboring it…never letting it touch her." Leliana's tone lightened and turned wistful, layered with hints of longing.

_Death touches us all…and stays its hand from none…not even the best of us. _

I could feel death near me, close enough to reach out and touch. But I…I wanted to live. I wanted to live, because I had seen that though death had touched the one who taught me to love, to live…such a love was still present in this world. It dwelt in Leliana's ocean blue eyes, the touch of her callused and scarred hands, the heart that had been torn open…one time too many. The heart that knew the true definition of sacrifice; that it was not death…but living in love, no matter the ultimate cost.

* * *

_Giselle leans on the handle of a broom, yawning and rolling her shoulders. The clinic is quiet for the first time since the sun rose this morning. It is long after sunset, and I can feel the fatigue pressing in on me, as it must be for her as well. _

_ "Sit down." I take the broom from her and the corners of my lips turn upwards, through no will of my own. "I'll finish the floors."_

_ "You don't need to do that." Giselle shakes her head, but another yawn gives her away. "We've both worked too hard today."_

_ "__**You**__ worked." I tugged the broom away from her, grinning as she threw up her hands in defeat. "I merely handed you things and observed."_

_ "Learning is the most exhausting of pursuits." Giselle pulls her hair back and ties it, revealing the delicate points of her ears, something she often keeps concealed._

_ Her features are decidedly human; it is only the tips of her ears and the color of her eyes that give her heritage away. In order to keep our human patients at ease, she leaves her hair in place to cover evidence of elven descent. I find that this disturbs me on a level too intimate for comfort. There is nothing about Giselle that should be kept hidden, nothing about her that warrants reproach or concealment. _

_ "Be that as it may, you work yourself to exhaustion each and every day." I begin sweeping the floor, turning away and hiding my face and the color stealing over my cheeks. _

_ Her nearness, her voice, those __**eyes**__…they spark feelings in me that have no name. A flutter in my heart, a tightness in my throat, a thrumming in my pulse that is not fear…but something very like it. _

_The door of the clinic bursts open and a huge, hairy, brute of a man enters, leading a young boy, no more than eleven or twelve years old, by the shoulder._

_ "I need aid." he growls. "Boy here broke his arm."_

_ Giselle straightens and the exhaustion flows away from her as concern lights her eyes. I have worked with her long enough to know that the injury of a child is close to her heart. _

_ "This way, ser." she keeps her voice even, but I see the glare in the man's eyes._

_ "Ain't no knife-ear gonna touch my boy." he growls and Giselle takes a step back, uncertain of what to do. All of the other healers have departed for the evening…except…except me._

_ "Forgive me, ser." I walk forward, hoping that Giselle will forgive me this use of my talent. "My servant was merely attempting to expedite progress, for efficiency's sake. Allow us to tend to your son."_

_ Giselle stares at me with a mixture of awe and confusion, wondering who I am. My voice rings with false confidence, as I slip into a role, take on a new persona, a skill I honed to razor-edged perfection beneath Leron's torturous tutelage. I lead the boy to one of the beds and Giselle fetches the appropriate tools, two flat pieces of board and strong linen for bandaging. _

_ I look at the boy's left arm, wincing at the awkward angle, the dark purple of the bruising around his wrist, not consistent with the location of the break. His eyes are frightened, flitting from me, to his father, to Giselle. There are tear-streaks on his face. _

_ "What happened to cause the injury?" I inquire, looking at the boy. _

_ "Fell out of a tree." the father states, but he does not meet my eyes, and the boy's body tenses. _

_ Giselle lays the supplies out on the edge of the bed and I catch her eyes. "I need to talk to you." I whisper, and she nods, following me into the adjacent room where the clinic's supplies are kept._

_ "Kathyra, what is it?" she asks. "You look positively wrathful."_

_ "The boy did not break his arm in the manner his father said." I reply, my voice trembling. "I have seen bones broken in that same way many times…and his wrist is badly bruised."_

_ "Tell me how." Giselle says, her eyes narrowing. _

_ "It…it is not easily described." I hesitate, but she offers herself, opening her arms._

_ "Show me then."_

_ My mouth goes dry as I step behind her and firmly grasp her forearm, near the wrist, and with a smooth motion, pull her arm behind her back, careful, not with the force actually applied if I were using this technique in earnest. Even so, she gasps in pain, and I immediately relinquish her wrist, feeling guilt wash over me. _

_ "Who…who would do that to a child?" she asks, rubbing her shoulder, looking at me with a little hint of fear. _

_**Who would do that to anyone? **__I think, heaping recriminations on myself. __**Except for me…**_

_ "Most often, the one who conceives the lie is the reason behind it." I mumble, remembering the countless lies that can be attributed to me. _

_ "Oh no." Giselle leans against the doorway and lightly thumps her forehead. "The father?" _

_ "That is my only assumption." I state. _

_ Giselle pushes herself back from the doorway, gathering her composure with a deep inhale. "You know enough to set the bone and splint the arm." she says. "I will return shortly."_

_ "Where…"_

_ "Take care of the patient." Giselle orders, her voice more stern and cold than ever I have heard it. _

_ I nod and return to the infirmary, forcing myself to smile for the sake of the boy, whose face is pale with pain and fear. I sit beside him and attempt not to notice the aura of hostility emanating from his father. I feel along the injury, finding the point of the break, sighing in relief as I realize it will not need to be set. _

_ I splint the wound, admiring the boy's bravery as he makes not a sound. As I tie the last knot of bandaging, the clank of armor echoes across the stone floor and I glance up, shocked to see Giselle standing between two templar guards. _

_ "Take him for questioning." she says, and one of the templars takes the boy's father in hand, leading him from the room. _

_ "What the hell are you doing!?" he shouts, struggling in the templar's grasp. "You knife-eared bitch! That's my son! You will __**pay**__ for this, I swear by the Maker!"_

_ The boy's eyes widen as a templar kneels before him, smiling affably. "How is your arm?" he asks, kind. _

_ "It doesn't hurt as much." the boy offers, looking at his father who is being dragged away. "Why are you taking my father, ser?" _

_ "You are in the house of the Maker, son." the templar says. "No falsehood can dwell here, so tell me true. Did your father hurt you?"_

_ The boy bites his lower lip and my heart goes out to him as he grapples with protecting the man who had hurt him, or gaining the chance for freedom from abuse. _

_ "Yes, ser knight." he nods. "But it's all right. He doesn't hurt my mother or sisters when I'm home…"_

_ "Heavens, hells, and angels." I hiss, quickly removing myself from the situation. I cannot bear the thought of a child subjected to the same manner of suffering that I endured, the prayerful, frightened, bleeding hope that my sacrifices and wounds would buy respite for those I was meant to protect. _

_ I watch as the templar asks a few more questions before patting the boy on the shoulder and helping him to his feet. "Sister Giselle, I am escorting young David home. His mother will be worried for him."_

_ "Of course, ser." Giselle nods. "Thank you."_

_ The templar leaves the clinic and Giselle and I turn to each other, witnessing the tears in the eyes of the other. _

_ "I wouldn't have known." Giselle whispers, and I see that her hands are shaking. "Kathyra…I wouldn't have known. I would have let his father take him…back to that…back…oh Maker no."_

_ Giselle flings herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist and holding me close. The reaction begins, the burning, the fear, the need to flee. But I feel the trembling of her body as she weeps, and I realize that she needs this, that even though she is __**so**__ strong, strength can fade._

_ Hesitant, slow, I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer, inhaling the scent of herbs and sunlight in her hair, screaming at myself in a silent order that __**this**__ is all right, that __**all**__ will be well. _

_ "You saved his life, Kathyra." Giselle whispers. "You saved that young boy's life…I would have failed him."_

_ "It…it isn't your fault, Giselle." I assure her. _

_ "Yes it is and I…" she removes her head from my chest and stares at me, realizing what she has done. Alarmed, she pulls away. "Oh Maker, Kathyra, I'm sorry. I should never have…I was just so overwhelmed and…wait." her green eyes spark and narrow. "How did you know? Kathyra, how did you know that his injuries were caused by that particular technique?"_

_ This time…I do not fight. I run. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Kathyra**

_ I flee out into the storm battered night, feeling the shadows embrace me with the warmth of an old friend. They cling to my skin, clawing for entrance, asking to color my soul. All that I once was crashes in on me with the force of a battle axe. _

_**Is it ever enough, **__I wonder as I watch rainwater puddle in my hands. In my mind's eye it is red, thick, scented with copper and salt, a damning color and stench that defines my very being. __**I could live a thousand years and never undo the darkness that I have brought to this world.**_

_ I aimlessly wander the streets and back alleys of Val Royeaux, thinking of Giselle. How fierce she could be, balanced against the vulnerability that few bore witness to. I heard the whispers of the other Chantry brothers and sisters, the bigotry and colored opinions. I saw the frown creasing Mother Dorothea's brows whenever her gaze lit on the half-elven physician. _

_**But she **__**gives**__** so much, **__I attempt to make sense of the situation. __**Those of all races and all heritage…she turns no one away. She embodies all of the Chantry's teachings and yet she is despised.**_

_ My heart aches as lightning flashes overhead. I take in my surroundings, feeling electric pulses of warning through every nerve as I realize that I am standing outside of Leron's home. Even in the rain-drenched air, I can smell the odor of lyrium and poppies. _

_**My feet must have brought me here for a purpose**__, I glance around in fear, looking for familiar faces, seeing no one. __**Am I not meant for a better life…than the one I knew here?**_

_ I place my hand near my mouth and fight the desire to retch as I ease closer to the lit window. Leron is seated before the fire; an emaciated, ill-looking woman of the night sits at his feet, her head in his lap, dirty brown eyes glazed with the effects of the drug and the tell-tale silvery sheen of Leron's mind magic. He idly runs his hands through her hair and my body shudders, remembering those hands on me, their ultimate cruelty being their pretense of gentleness. _

_ Marjolaine sits opposite him, her raven hair catching the firelight. She wears the smile of a contented cat, and I tremble as I look into her eyes. They are dead, flat, absorbing the light of the flames into them and reflecting nothing. _

_**You could go back, **__a darker voice whispers, the voice that sends fear spiraling through me at Giselle's touch, that whispers doubt into my mind when I stand on the precipice of full disclosure. __**You could return to the life that was given you. No more fear, for nothing will have changed. No more would the overwhelming light of her presence drag you through guilt and self-recrimination. In fact, Leron could remove all memory of Giselle and her kindness. No more haunting whispers of her voice; no more promises that will break upon your revelation. Think of it, Kathyra…never again would those eyes scorch your very soul. **_

_ I trace the lines of mortar between the bricks, remembering the first time I had set foot in this house. So much had been different then. Leron had seemed a kind soul, taking in two orphans, promising shelter and sustenance and safety. Marjolaine had been weak, frail, a lost child; wide eyes filled with terror and exhaustion. _

_ Tears sting against my eyes as I examine the woman my sister has become. She is beautiful, but hollow. _

_**They will fall by the scores, **__I think, watching her ruby lips curl upward into a canny smile. __**She is the consummate actress…and I am the one who let her become so. Perhaps, if I return, I can save her. I can believe that it was naught but a misunderstanding. **_

_ "Wipe that ridiculous smile from your face." Leron orders, the lines on his face deepening as he glares at my sister. "You have no cause to rejoice."_

_ "Au contraire." Marjolaine aligns the tips of her fingers and rests them on her chin. "A month has gone by, with no word. If Kathyra still lives, she will not bestir herself to act against us."_

_ "I had my men scour the city, seeking her out. There is nothing, not even in the houses of the dead." Leron's eyes flash and his fingers fist in the unfortunate harlot's hair…but she is beyond the pain._

_**I remember that place, **__I shiver from the rain and the memories. __**Waking with welts on my back and blood on my thighs and no knowledge…no remembrance of anything but numbness. **_

_ "I returned." Marjolaine rises and stands behind Leron's chair, leaning down and lacing her arms across his chest. "I saw the blood myself. She lost too much, Leron. You taught me well."_

_ The mage smiles and his lips are too thin and his teeth too sharp. "It is the long game, pretty thing." he says, his voice mellow and sweet, like aged whiskey. "Your sister…so eager to please, so desperate to protect…as easily molded as cheap clay. You, Marjolaine, were my true work of art." he slides his free hand along her arm and bile rises in my throat as I force myself to watch the sickening tableau. _

_ "The world will tremble before us." Marjolaine claims. "Especially now that Kathyra and her pesky conscience are out of our way…permanently."_

_ "No regrets, then?" Leron asks, and my heart catches in my throat as I realize that I am witness to the answer to my question. _

_ Marjolaine __**laughs**__. It is all that is calculated, all that is cold, and all that is bitter. "Regrets?" she smiles. "I had grown so weary of self-restraint. How could I regret true freedom?"_

_ Blood drains from my face and my gut twists with enough ferocity to double me over. _

_**There was no misunderstanding…**__I sink to my knees in the dirty, bloodstained, secret-scarred streets of Val Royeaux. __**Even had I not drawn my blade, my life would have been forfeit. It was not self-defense…it was not fear for life. It was…it was…pre-meditated. Leron had full control over her for so long…and I never saw. How did I not **__**see**__**!?**_

_ I grip the brick of the house and stagger to my feet, in time to see Leron tilting his face to Marjolaine's, enveloping her lips with his own. _

_**No!**__ my thoughts scream, the part of me that will never cease caring for my little sister, loving her. __**Do not let him touch you! Please, Marjolaine, remember who you were! Remember who I fought for, **__**please**__**!"**_

_Marjolaine shifts into the hideous kiss, her hands slowly moving across Leron's chest, cupping his chin and the back of his head in a manner I know all too well. I close my eyes and turn away as I hear the wet snap of bone. _

_ I take no comfort in knowing that my tormentor is dead. There is no relief or resolution in the sick crack of death. The one who rises to his throne is far more dangerous, far more deadly. She has grown up protected…by me…by Leron. So safe, so unassailed, she has become invincible…and she will not rule the shadows through fear…but through love. _

_**For who would not love her?**__ I force myself to watch as Marjolaine shoves Leron forward, onto the floor, his head twisted at a nauseating angle. My sister glares at the intoxicated harlot and sighs as though inconvenienced. __**Who would not love a woman so strong in her beliefs, so convinced of her own immortality, and able to promise all followers the same? Is this the price I pay, little sister? Must I fear everything I face while you walk on, unmoved? Must I doubt every kindness shown me while you rule the court of shadows from your bloodstained throne? **_

_ Pain twists in my chest like a flame-drenched knife. Marjolaine lifts her eyes and I duck below the window. _

_ "Is anyone there?" her voice rings above the sound of the rain and I cringe, curling my frozen fingers into desperate fists. _

_ The door opens and I dart around the corner, inhaling the fetid stench of the alley. I lean against the wall, attempting to silence my breathing, to meld with the night. Marjolaine's seductive tones drift on the wind. _

_ "Who's there?" she calls. "I mean you no harm. I promise."_

_**I mean you no harm. I promise. **__The words replay in my mind, but not in Marjolaine's molten accent. The voice that says them is airy and light, honest and kind, afraid of nothing. __**Giselle. **_

_ I stand in the shadows, knowing that everything has changed. Leron would have accepted me…punishment would have been dealt, but I would have lived. But the court of shadows holds nothing but death for me now. Death at the hands of the one for whom I would have given my life. _

_ Memories of the month spent with Giselle flash through my thoughts, the warmth, the encouragement, the security of her presence, the instructions of how to heal._

_**And I remember every day, sweet and peaceful, **__relief fills me as the door closes, sealing my demon within my hell. __**I…I have been shown a different way of life…and…and…I want to see where it will lead. **_

_I slip away from my former home, returning to the Chantry, to Giselle…_

_ …__**no matter…no matter the pain I must endure. No matter the cost of my confessions. **_


	11. Chapter 11

**Kathyra**

_**Please be awake**_, _I am close to begging as I knock as lightly as possible on Giselle's door. My clothes are soaked through and I am shivering from cold. My lungs burn when I breathe. _

_ The door opens and those gorgeous eyes take me in. They are brighter than they have ever been, rimmed with red, as though she has been crying. I feel as though they are stripping away the layers of silence and leaving me naked before her. Naked, with my eyes covered in nightmares and my hands stained a permanent shade of crimson. _

_ "Inside, this instant." she orders, but her voice is not harsh. It is low, hoarse with worry. _

_ I enter the room with shuddering, tentative steps, attempting to find words, unable to speak through the chattering of my teeth. _

_ Giselle reaches out, but pulls away…both of us are so uncertain. Something has changed between us, the surety of former steps and former words shared all but forsaken. There is so much that she does not know; there is so much to say…and I am terrified. _

_ "Do not simply stand there!" she chastises, but her words are still thick with anxiety, fueling the volume and heat behind her speech. "You will catch your death. Get to the fire, and take off your clothes."_

_ I stumble towards the warmth of the hearth, but my fingers refuse to obey me as I fumble with the laces of my shirt. I am too numb, too stunned by all that I have borne witness to, that instead of persevering, I let my hands fall away. _

_ "What were you thinking?" Giselle reappears from the shadows of the room, burdened with blankets._

_ "I…I did not really…" the words come out punctuated with stutters and light coughing. _

_ "Maker's breath, you're a veritable mess." Giselle throws the blankets on a nearby chair and moves to stand in front of me. "First things first," her voice is even, measured, the voice she uses when assessing a patient, "we have to get you warm." She bites her lower lip and her eyes look wet in the firelight. "Let me help you." this is not her physician's voice, but a plea, from a heart to a heart, a mind to a mind. _

_ My teeth are chattering again, but I nod in lieu of answering. Her small, delicate hands grasp the hem of my shirt and she lifts it slowly, baring my drenched body to the air. She is careful not to graze my skin, the boundaries that were forgotten earlier have been reset, and I do not know if I am grateful. _

_ She tosses the shirt near the fire and looks at me, white and shivering, half naked and so very, very vulnerable. She locks her eyes with mine, holding them, reassuring me in a silent exchange as her hands reach for the lacings of my trousers, carefully untying the leather and easing the ties apart. Gentle, hesitant, she peels away the soaked material, her eyes never leaving mine as she removes the clothing from my body. I step out of the garment and she tosses it in the same direction as the shirt. _

_ Immediately she stands, reaching for the blanket, stopping and hanging her head before her fingers close around it. _

_ "Kathyra, I am sorry." she breathes, turning her eyes to mine once more. "It has only been a month. Your lungs are still weak from your injury…I need to listen to your breathing. You…damn it, you have to be all right."_

_ "F…Forgive me." I grit my teeth as she steps nearer, attempting to recall my resolution, to fortify myself and begin to heal. _

_**I have nothing but death to return to, **__I remind myself. __**And though pain is found in living, it is **__**proof of life**__**.**_

_Giselle leans in and places her delicate, pointed ear against my chest. I attempt to still the shivering, to let her do her work. The strangest of sensations overwhelms me as quiet pervades the room. The urge to reach out, run my fingers through her tresses of molten gold, inhale the scent of her skin. Against my will, my heart begins to beat faster. _

_ I am no stranger to this situation, but always before, I have known my duty. To play as subservient, to give into my companion's wishes, bend to their desires, sate their every whim. To indulge and deceive…I have given my body to depraved men and vindictive women, against my will and out of love. Love with no reciprocation. Love with betrayal as its ultimate end. _

_ But never…never have I thought of being the first to touch. My body has always been a weapon, never a gift…and now it is too damaged to be of any worth. I rein in my errant thoughts as Giselle moves away and wraps the blanket around me, ushers me into the chair, and pushes it closer to the warmth of the fire. _

_ "More labored than I'd like." she comments and turns her face, but not before I see what looks to be the faintest flush of pink in her cheeks. "Keep that blanket close; seal in your natural body heat." the physician is back in full force and I discard my ridiculous notions of anything deeper. _

_**She cares for me as her apprentice, possibly even her friend…but nothing more, and I am a fool to even consider it. **_

_ Giselle returns a short time later, holding a steaming cup. She hands it to me and I accept, inhaling the pungent odor, looking to her for an answer._

_ "You tell me." she smiles and sits on the hearthstone before the fire. _

_ The established pattern helps to settle my frayed nerves and I breathe in the steam. "Eucalyptus." I answer. "Used to aid congested breathing." _

_ "Very good." Giselle nods, but there is no light in her eyes as there has been the past month when I answered her inquiries correctly. She stares off into the distance, as though gathering her thoughts…summoning courage. "Kathyra…what am I doing wrong?"_

_ Her inquiry takes me by surprise and I tighten my grip on the cup that nearly slipped from my grasp. "N…nothing." _

_ She purses her lips and nods, drawing conclusions, fitting the puzzle together in her brilliant mind. "Then why do you run?" she asks. "I mean you no harm, I simply…I simply want to know you, and every time that I ask you the simplest of questions the blood leaves your face, and moments later, you are gone. I can but assume that you have no trust in me, when I have done nothing but attempt to prove myself worthy of it."_

_**You **__**are**__** worthy, **__I want to tell her. __**But I…I am not. And you will see that, the moment I reveal to you my weaknesses and doubts…my past. **_

_ "I am afraid." I confess, hoping that it might be enough, for resolve weakens when I feel the comfort of her presence and bask in her care. _

_ "Reveal something I am unaware of." she chides, but not angrily. "I do not…Kathyra, I know very little about you but your name and that you were once a servant of…some sort. But you…you fell into my life in a swirl of chaos and blood and then…then you saved me."_

_**I…saved…you?**_

_ "From Cyril." she explains, seeing the questions in my eyes. "From having to distort my calling and my passion into some…some charade for a noble to make a pretense at in order to further his name by over-exaggerated good deeds. Such…such a thing would have broken my soul. And for that, Kathyra, for that gift alone…I am willing to give you anything you ask, for now I am free to do so."_

_**Then do not ask for revelation**__, the darker voice taunts me again. __**Let it be as it was, with no truth between you. Keep your secrets well, for to divulge them is to draw death near you. **_

_ I drink the last of the tea and look into the fire. _

_ "I am a thief." I confess, feeling the iron bands of fear around my heart begin to groan as too much pressure is placed upon them. "I am a liar." more pressure and breathing becomes difficult. "I am a murderer and a whore." the bands fly apart, doubling me over in true, physical pain. _

_ Tears stream from my eyes and drip onto the floor and even though I have warmed, I begin to tremble once again. _

_ "What are you talking about?" Giselle asks, and I hear her coming closer, feel the non-touch of her hand as it hovers above my shoulder. _

_ "D…don't look at me." I beg, unable to bear the gaze of her incendiary eyes. "Please…I…I couldn't bear it."_

_ "Who did this to you?" she inquires, not moving, nor turning her eyes away. I can feel them on my skin, kind and insightful, caring and questioning. "Kathyra, who…"_

_ "The man who took me in." I groan as my gut twists in sharp, gnawing agony. "We…my sister and I…we were orphaned. My father and mother were killed before my eyes…and I covered hers…I covered hers…" __**does that mean nothing, Marjolaine? Does it mean nothing that I shielded your eyes from the sight, stood before you as our mother's blood spattered across my cheek, took your hand and fled before those blades found us as well? **_

_ "Blessed Creators." Giselle whispers, horror in her words. "Kathyra, it's all right. I…"_

_ "No." the word is nearly a growl and I turn my eyes at last to hers, to let her see the feral __**thing**__ that Leron created. "We lived on the streets for nearly a year, starving, frightened, running from the sounds in the night, fleeing from slavers and lechers and rogues. Marjolaine…my sister…she became ill during the winter. We had no coin, no family…nothing. And then…like a deliverer prayed for…he appeared. He healed her then and there…__**magic**__." I spit the word in disgust, for it is something I have learned to revile. "I…I let my guard down. I was so grateful, and so tired, and I answered his questions and accepted his offer of a home."_

_ A soft gasp leaves Giselle's lips, and I know that she is seeing me in her mind's eye, a world-weary, terrified child, hoping against hope, believing against faith, and, at last, trusting. _

_ "It was so pleasant, those first few years." I look back on the happy times, Marjolaine free from fear, well, clothed in beautiful dresses and embracing the joy of learning new things. "We were taught the fine arts, painting, singing, dance, poetry, tales, music. By that time, I would have done anything for him. He had become our father…then everything changed."_

_ I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat as my gut twists again and my heart aches as it pounds in my chest, remembering the fear, the sickened disgust…the first missing days. _

_ "One night…one night he came to me…" my voice trembles "…naked and harsh, and he…he stole from me everything I had. My virtue, my innocence, my conscience. He owned me completely, and told me that I would do __**everything**__ he asked or my sister would suffer the consequences."_

_ "Goddess of mercy and healing." Giselle breathes, calling on a deity I have never before heard reference to. "What…"_

_ "He put weapons in my hands." I stare down at the floor. "Trained me in their use…and when I mastered them, I learned his true nature. King of the shadows, lord of whispers, lord of lies…those who make and break kingdoms with no one the wiser. I drew blood." my hands begin to shake. "I broke bone. I killed and I deceived and I seduced until I could bear it no more. It was when I rebelled that he first used his magic. He tore into my mind and at last…took even that refuge from me. Every thought was his, every deed. It became a sick, twisted game…I would wake in strange places, blood on my hands, secrets locked away in my thoughts that only he could reach. And as he tore what he wanted from my mind he used me for his pleasure, and when he was sated, I was gifted to his friends…goods to be bartered. It took a year of pure, unadulterated hell, countless beatings, bruises, and rapes, to earn his trust again."_

_ "How?" I can sense the tremors in Giselle's hands, how they long to reach out and comfort. But they are more hesitant now that they know the truth, now that they know how truly damaged I am. "How did you endure all of that?"_

_ "I…" there are tears, and my voice breaks, and my heart __**hurts**__, "…I couldn't let him hurt her." I gasp. "I could have endured __**anything**__, so long as she was safe…but, as I discovered tonight…he lied to me."_

_ "You," her skin pales, "you went back to him? Kathyra, are you certain I did nothing?"_

_ "Yes." the fact that her voice still holds concern, still holds caring bolsters me and gives me courage. "Fear makes us seek out the familiar…I have exploited that knowledge too many times to count. So I…I sought what I once knew…only to realize that I had been lied to, yet again. I thought my sister had been cared for, kept innocent. What I did not know…is that he wanted her all along. That when he forced me to do his bidding, he __**taught**__ her, __**warped**__ her, destroyed the beautiful woman she could have been. You asked me once," I pressed my hand to my right side, "who dealt me this wound."_

_ "I did." she nods. _

_ "She did." I move out of the chair and huddle into myself on the floor, pulling the blanket around me like a shield. "The very night I bought my freedom and sold my body to him one final time…for her freedom as well. And she spat in my face and took my knife and nearly killed me with it."_

_ The memory of that night washes over me in a sickening wave and I lurch to my feet and stagger to the chamber pot, dropping to my knees and retching until I have nothing left in me but grief and fear and exhaustion. I remain on my knees, shuddering, thinking of the lonely life ahead, when Giselle realizes what I am and turns me from her door, back to a life of death. _

_ "Here." Giselle kneels beside me and extends a cup of water and soaked cloth._

_ I rinse the acid from my mouth and wash my face, keeping my eyes averted from the physician's. _

_ "You need to rest, Kathyra." Giselle whispers, rising and offering me her hand. "Do you think you can make it to the bed?"_

_ I nod, but refuse her hand, not wanting to taint something that beautiful with my touch. I get to my feet and stumble to the bed, collapsing onto its soft surface with a groan. Giselle tucks the blankets around me, careful still not to touch. _

_ "How?" I ask her as she sits on the edge of the bed, keeping a silent vigil. "How can you find this kindness for one such as I? I…I have taken lives, Giselle. My hands are soaked with blood, my lips scarred with lies, my body defiled. That is who I am."_

_ Giselle moves from the bed and kneels before me, tears shining like stars in her eyes. "Not as I see it." she tells me. "That is who you __**were**__, Kathyra. Against __**your**__ will, that is who you __**were.**__"_


	12. Chapter 12

**Kathyra**

The soft creaking of the ship dragged me back to an unwilling awareness. My body felt drenched in flames, my skin uncomfortably tight. I opened my eyes and found my vision too bright, everything painted in stark clarity.

_Where are you_? I wondered, remembering the woman whose hands held my world, whose smile was my joy, whose words were my soul. _Are you happy? Do you miss me…or do you even recall that I exist? What is paradise? _Thoughts that had never before entered my thoughts berated me now as I stood on the delicate edge of mortality. _The Chant of Light never speaks of it…never says to what planes our souls journey when we die. The dwarves believe they return to the Stone, the elves have their legends that Arlathan will be returned to them, men have their philosophies…but what is true? If our heavens are as separate as our races, where would one of two separate bloodlines dwell? _

"There you are." Leliana's accent washed over me, cooling the fire in my blood and my mind. "You've been sleeping for so long, I was beginning to worry."

_Worry? For me? _My lips trembled as tears lined my eyes, tears I could not afford to shed, weakness that my injuries would take advantage of, carrying me closer to the precipice of eternity.

"I have…been dreaming." I said, wondering if this beautiful woman held the answers to my questions.

_You have been so close to death, Leliana. Have you seen into the next world? Do you know what it holds? Will I be alone there as I am now? _

Leliana's fingers drifted through my hair, the temperature of her skin normal, but a cooling balm on my fevered brow. Her hands were so different from Giselle's. My physician had small, delicate hands, strong but soft, able to impart her immense ability to comfort and heal. Leliana had an archer's hands, long, tapering fingers, calluses along the top of her palm from gripping a dagger, scars across the index and middle finger from a bowstring. But, by some twist of demented fate, Leliana's hands, which I knew had dealt more death than mine, had equal capacity for healing and care.

"Sweet dreams?" she asked me, her hand moving away, taking comfort, joy, and solace with it.

"I'm not certain." I replied, coughing a little, hearing my breath rattle in my lungs. "Leliana…can bards have sweet dreams? Or are we doomed to a fate of instilling them in others?"

She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Oh no." she answered and I began to drown in the ocean depths of her sparking eyes. "It is perhaps more difficult for us to find them, but when we do, they surely eclipse all other dreamers."

"What of waking dreams?" I asked, feeling strangely contemplative as a woman who defied my perception of the world sat beside me in the most extreme of circumstances. "The thoughts that terrify us when we wake from sweeter dreaming?"

"What troubles you, Kathyra?" her fingers thread through mine, imparting a sense of camaraderie that I have never felt during my time with the Seekers.

_Perhaps it is because we share a past; that fate threaded our lives together…that her suffering was the last sin I committed, and the Maker truly does allow redemption. _

"What happens, Leliana?" my hands began to tremble. "After death?"

"You are _not_ dying." she insisted, even though we both knew the truth.

Time would not be kind. It never had been, not to me, taking that which was good too soon and leaving me with nothing. Nothing until…_until she entered my life, torn away from all that she loves, and still so kind, so graceful, so forgiving. _

"Be that as it may," I smiled, allowing her hope into my heart for a brief, flickering moment, "do you know?"

Her hand left mine and she drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. It was a position I knew all too well, one of contemplation, self-protection, a subconscious shield.

She laughed and it had a bitter note to it. "I suppose, at the end of the day, all we bards have are dreams, scars, and stories." she shook her head. "I do not rightly know, Kathyra…death has so many faces. It leaves the body locked in earthly sorrow, desperate terror, unfulfilled destiny…only once have I seen peace."

_So you…you have seen such a thing as well? Was it a violent death? Was it sudden, unexpected? Was it one that you loved?_

"Can you tell me?" I hated the desperation in my voice, but the questions would not cease.

I could not explain the sensation, the feeling of Giselle's nearness, as though I had brought her from my thoughts and dreams and back to me, back into the waking world. But the eyes I looked into were the deepest of blues, her hair the color of flames, not gold. It was their love that was the same, selfless, without pretense, without judgment…without fear.

"Salem." she whispered the name with reverence, longing. "I watched her die, Kathyra." she brushed her face, wiping away what I knew were tears. "She looked…so at ease, so blissful, I almost questioned the decision to save her life. She told me…" Leliana curled into herself further, and my heart ached for her grief, "…she told me that she returned home, that her family surrounded her, welcomed her…that in death, all things stolen are returned."

"I wonder," I voiced my thoughts aloud, "if that rings true for all of us…or just those who are too good for this world?"

"I do not know." Leliana replied, pensive, far away. "I would like…I would like to think so. Being apart from her in life is so difficult…I cannot imagine an eternity alone."

_Eternity alone…no. Such a fate is too cruel for one who carried such light and warmth within her. Giselle, _I shifted and the piece of wood in my side pressed deeper. A cry I could not stifle ripped from my throat and left me coughing. Blood spilled into my mouth and coated my teeth, the scent of it staggering, taste of it sickening. Leliana was at my side immediately, her tears forgotten, her grief discarded.

"Hold on." she whispered, attempting to steady me through another paroxysm. "Keep strong. You will be all right, I promise."

_You…damn it, you have to be all right._ Giselle's old words rang in my ears.

"Not…not this time, I'm afraid." I gasped, letting hope be defeated.

My vision blurred to two pinpoints of bright blue in the darkness. "Kathyra?" Leliana asked, worry in her voice, "Kathyra, stay with me. Stay with me!"

_Can't…_I drifted towards the black of unconsciousness…_Giselle, if what was stolen in life is returned in death…I do not think…you will be alone…very much longer. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Kathyra**

_The pounding on the door rouses the pain inside my skull. My eyes open and I blink the world into place, afraid as I realize that I am wearing nothing and that I am not in the room I have come to know as mine. _

_ "Wha…" my throat is sore and scratchy and I cease speaking as a figure rises in the dark. _

_ "Wait here, Kathyra." Giselle's voice calms the furor in my mind; I feel secure in her presence, even though the knocking at the door intensifies. _

_ Giselle walks to the door and opens it, standing guard as Mother Dorothea attempts to push past her. _

_ "What is it, Dorothea?" she asks, not a little ire in her tone as she blocks the woman's entry. _

_ In the dim light of the lamps in the hall, I can see Dorothea's jaw tighten. "Where is your apprentice?" she asks, and my heart sinks as tension rises in the room. _

_ "You've come knocking at my door before sunrise in search of Kathyra?" Giselle inquires, her voice hardening. "I think you owe me an explanation before you begin making demands."_

_ "And you took your vows, and as such are my subordinate and therefore when orders are given, they __**will**__ be followed." the imperious Revered Mother explains in a patronizing tone, such as one reprimanding a child. _

_ I curl tighter into myself, feeling cold and unsure. I do not know why Dorothea has come seeking me, but the tone of her voice carries reminders of disapproval, anger, and consequences soon to be suffered. _

_ "Do not take that tone with me, Dorothea." Giselle orders, her posture straight, even though the Revered Mother towers over her. "Vow or no, you've no right to lord yourself over me, __**especially**__ not as it concerns Kathyra. Now tell me or I will physically remove you from my doorstep."_

_**Why are you doing this, Giselle? **__I wonder as I watch the two battle each other through sheer force of presence alone. __**I know enough of you to know that you have no love of or desire for confrontation. I do not understand this behavior. **_

_ "Shall I summon the guards who demanded I seek your apprentice?" Dorothea needles and my heart begins to race. "Or will the knowledge that I am attempting to __**help**__ you get through your diminished mental capacity?"_

_ The racial slur is not lost on either of us. Giselle stiffens visibly and I clench my hands into fists, thinking that I have killed for less._

_**What would it feel like, **__I think, frightening myself as I consider the idea, __**to take a life in defense of another? To kill…in order to protect? Is such an action justifiable, or is it murder still, and forever an unforgivable offense? **_

_ "Speak." Giselle crosses her arms, maintaining her defiance and giving no ground to Dorothea. _

_ "It would seem a man was murdered this very night." Dorothea lowers her voice, but I can still hear every word. "His neck broken…in the same manner as I believe I recall you describing to a group of students not so long ago, Kathyra among them. A woman of Kathyra's description was seen leaving the scene."_

_ I see the questions in Giselle's eyes, for I did not tell her of Leron's death at the hands of Marjolaine. I did not tell her that I bore witness to the all too merciful end to the man who had made my life an indescribable depth of terror. _

_ "Not possible." Giselle shakes her head, and the faith behind her words drives a dagger into my gut._

_**How can you say that? I have only **__**just**__** relayed to you all that I am. I told you the magnitude of my crimes. I **__**am**__** a murderer!**_

_ Dorothea waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I will leave such inquiries for the city guard. But if it does prove true…"_

_ "It __**won't**__." Giselle insists and my heart burns. _

_ "Hear. Me. Out." Dorothea orders, clipped and forceful. "If it __**does**__ ring true, then you will lose your tenure here. Your vows will be revoked, and so will my protection. We both know that the situation of your finances is beyond dismal and that you've nothing and no one to help you outside of these walls. Think on that carefully before you make __**another**__ foolish decision, Sister Giselle."_

_ "Another?" Giselle demands, not betraying an ounce of fear. "And what, in your mind, would be the first, Mother Dorothea?"_

_ "Aside from the pretention to rise above your station?" Dorothea glares at the physician down the bridge of her aquiline nose. "Perhaps the fact that you gave a potential __**murderer**__ a home inside my Chantry."_

_ "Your chantry, mother? I think not." Giselle scoffs. "Send in your guards and I will give them the full measure of the truth." _

_ "Be careful, sister." Dorothea warns. "You have already been warned of the consequences of any falsehoods, and I did have the foresight to search your apprentice's room. She was not to be found."_

_**Do not do it, Giselle. Do not lie for me, for you do not know the entirety of the truth. Please, **__I look to the heavens in supplication, allowing myself to believe, for one moment, that a god might exist who answered prayer, __**please let no harm come to her. Cast me back into the streets, rip the flesh from my body, spill my blood, I do not care. But let no harm come to her because of me. **_

_ The clank of armor greets my ears and Giselle flings the door open wide, allowing light to spill in the room. I close my eyes, willing away the sight of men sworn to uphold the law. Too many times I have run as they dogged my footsteps. Too many times have I dodged their weapons, keeping my face shielded for fear of being identified. My body trembles beneath the sheets. _

_ "Guardsmen, please, I ask for quiet." I hear Giselle's voice, not dark and heated as it was in conversation with Dorothea, but soft, innocent and trustworthy. "The woman you seek is not Kathyra. She is ill, and has been under my care and supervision since sunset. She has only now succumbed to slumber, please do not disturb her." _

_ "Mother Dorothea," the deep baritone of a guard, "will you vouch for the testimony of this sister?"_

_ Again the battle of wills between them, Dorothea's prejudice and anger balanced against her need for Giselle's expertise and reputation._

_ "Sister Giselle is many things." Dorothea relents. "But dishonest is not one of them. I would," she sighs, disgruntled, "I would stake my reputation on it."_

_ "Then we are sorry to have disturbed you, Revered Mother." the guardsmen says._

_ I open my eyes to a narrow slit and see the guardsmen depart, followed by a tight-lipped Dorothea. She looks back at Giselle and frowns, shaking her head. The physician smiles and lifts her hand, fluttering her fingers cheekily. _

_ Dorothea sighs in disgust and the door closes. Giselle leans against it and her chest heaves in one shuddering exhale. I sit up in the bed, worrying for her, but she lifts her hand in an order to lie back down. I obey and rest my head on the pillow, dreading every footfall as she comes nearer. _

_**I have taken too much from you**_**, **_I think. __**If this continues, what will happen to me when you decide you can give no longer? **_

_ "Are you all right?" she asks, her voice different than it was with Dorothea or the guardsmen. It is sweeter, gentler, lyrical. _

_ "Why did you do that?" I do not even answer her question, sitting bolt upright and speaking past the rawness in my throat. "After I told you, why…"_

_ "Did you kill the man?" she does not dance around the question, as most would have. It is direct, and her eyes demand that I give an honest answer. _

_ "I…I saw him killed." I confess. "And did nothing to stop it…because the man who was murdered was Leron, and his murderer was my sister…Marjolaine."_

_ "Was this Leron…the man that hurt you?" she asks again, so blunt, so matter-of-fact. _

_ I realize that I never spoke his name during my outpouring. Tears fall from my eyes and I nod, unable to speak past the knot in my throat and the pain in my chest. _

_ "Good." she speaks, emphatic, with no room for argument. _

_ "Giselle," I press the matter, determined to portray to her the woman that I am, "I __**would**__ have killed him, given the opportunity. For years, I have wanted nothing else __**but**__ his blood on my hands. You…you should not have lied. Not for me…not when I had already slaughtered him in my heart."_

_ Giselle folds her hands into her lap and pierces me with her eyes. "Kathyra, you know so __**much**__ of the darkness that seems to rule this world. Such immersion…into something that bleak, that inescapable, it drives the mind to a point where the world is drawn in stark colors, exact shades. Darkness, light, with nothing in between. It is not so."_

_ "You lied to protect a murderer and a thief, Giselle…in the house of god, no less. It is…it is not right."_

_ Giselle smiles, warmth and radiance. "I did not lie, Kathyra. You did not kill him."_

_ Confusion creases my brow. "You did not know that at the time."_

_ "And that is faith." she explains, gentle. "I did not have to know what happened, because I know __**you**__. You say you wanted to kill him. How many times did you have opportunity?"_

_ I rack my mind, what little of it is left to me, and the moments appear in stark clarity, the times I could have slipped poison into his drink, forced a knife between his ribs when he came to me at night, arranged an accident as he stumbled through the house in a drunken stupor._

_ "A thousand times." I breathe, wondering why I never capitalized on the chances afforded me. _

_ "And you did not." Giselle slides her hand close, still refraining from touch, but allowing me to know that if I could accept it, she would offer more than mere words as comfort. "Not because of fear, but because, in your deepest heart, the one you have never had freedom to indulge, you are __**not**__ a woman capable of murder. And," she stalls my protests with a glance, "until you can believe that of yourself, for yourself, believe __**me**__ in your stead."_

_ "You are so kind." I lower my head, ashamed to share space with such a woman, much less look her in the eye. "I have…I have never felt this way before."_

_ "Tell me." Giselle says, not an order but a wish._

_ "There is…there is something missing, and I cannot place it." I fidget with the blankets and attempt to gather my thoughts._

_ "If you will let me, I will show you." she offers. _

_ "Please." I lift my eyes to hers. _

_ Without hesitation, without further question, taking a liar at her word, Giselle reaches out and rests her hand on my shoulder. The instinctual fear rises, until she turns in towards me, baring her neck, her chest, and her vital organs to the freedom of my hands. I had never before seen a clearer portrayal of intent…and never an intent so pure. _

_ Giselle drew me towards her, resting my head on her shoulder. "Touch is necessary for life, Kathyra." she whispers. "I am so sorry that something so beautiful has been used to wrong you. It is meant as a gift, from one to another, to be used in moments of sincerity, sanctity, and sorrow."_

_ "I…I…" I fumble over the words as I inhale her scent and realize that she has left me free, free to move away, to shrink back, to falter. "…I do not know…if I will ever…be able to give such a thing…to anyone."_

_ "Can you accept it?" she asks, and her breath warms my cheek. "For just this moment, knowing that my sole desire is but to offer you a place of safety?"_

_ "Yes." I whisper against her neck._

_ The tears come, the racking sobs, the torrential sorrow. I am naked before her, body and soul. The bardic voice in the back of my mind screams that at any moment, she will take her advantage, and all I can do is shed more tears for that knowledge._

_And yet, through it all, Giselle…just holds me._


	14. Chapter 14

**Kathyra**

_"Good morning, slugabed." Giselle greets me. _

_ I turn from the window and smile, ready to face this day. Six months have passed since Leron's murder. Six months have passed in the half-elf's company, under her tutelage. In her, I have witnessed something I have never before seen…Giselle has remained the same. Unerring kindness, firmly held principles, a belief and delight in mankind that I have never before witnessed. I have seen her covered in blood and drenched in sweat…smiling, for she has saved a life. And I have seen her pale and trembling with rage for lives unable to be preserved. _

_ "Good morning." I reply, amazed that I am able to find the truth in the colloquialism. _

_**All mornings are bliss, when I am welcomed into them with your smile. **__The thoughts inspire a rush of blood to my face and I turn my gaze back to the rising sun, lest Giselle see and begin asking questions. Questions that I no longer avoid. _

_**She belongs to another. **__I reconcile myself to that fact as the lithe half-elf walks to the array of shelves in the room and beings tossing various vials and herb pouches into her bag. __**She is sworn to her work. It is her passion, her entire life, and I am blessed to be a mere part of it. Perhaps this is why I persist in ignorance at times…I am too afraid to venture into a world without her presence. **_

_"Have you been called away?" I ask, watching as she rifles through her old, leather satchel, tucking her hair behind her ears in frustration…only when completely lost in thought does she forget about concealing the tell-tale evidence of her heritage. _

_ "In a manner of speaking." she tosses the satchel back onto the table and resumes her searching through the vials. "__**I **__am calling us away. To the alienage." _

_ "Is everything all right?" I inquire, examining the crease between her brows, the set of her lips, clear indicators that she is most unhappy._

_ "Most certainly not." Giselle sighs and abandons the search, slinging her satchel over her shoulder._

_ "Giselle, please." my instinct is to reach out and connect with her, place a hand on her shoulder, or lower, along the defined curvature of her waist, but I resist, still hesitant after all this time. Still afraid of the ramifications of touch without invitation or need. "Calm down. Tell me what troubles you. Is it Dorothea again?"_

_ The Revered Mother had persisted in being a thorn in Giselle's side, and, by extension, my own. She left no chance untaken to remind Giselle of her tenuous position, or slight her for the elven blood in her veins. Since the night with the guards, I had fallen under her scrutiny as well. Dorothea had begun asking questions of my lineage, my father and mother, my past history. In spite of Giselle's interference and my own skill at avoiding interrogation, Dorothea continued to probe, and I knew the woman to be connected enough to find the truth of me, should she extend the parameters of her search. _

_**The Chantry has grown stifling and uncomfortable, but we've nowhere else to go. No…that is not true. I am human. I can find my way in any corner of the world, any country. I could set weapons in my hand again, or take the skills I have learned from her and begin life as a healer. However, **__I look at her, the sun gleaming from her golden hair, the vivacity in her mystical green eyes, the smooth texture of her skin, __**I do not want a life anywhere but at her side. I **__**need**__** her, as I have never needed anything in my life…as she will never need me. **_

_ "No. The Revered Cancer has managed to avoid me today, for which I am grateful to whatever deity has smiled on me." Giselle pinches her eyes shut, collects herself, and sighs. "Forgive me, Kathyra. I have only just been told that sickness has broken out in the alienage. Any other place, __**any**__ other, and the Chantry would have massed every healer in full force, to the point of summoning mages from the Circle."_

_ "I see." _

_ "Oh…Maker damn me to his fictitious hell." Giselle slams her palm against her forehead and looks at me. "I did not even ask if you would come…I simply assumed and…"_

_ "Why would I not join you?" I ask, perplexed by her behavior. _

_ "Would you not be…uncomfortable…among my people?" Giselle's eyes search mine, seeking…something I cannot name. _

_ "Am I uncomfortable around you?" I inquire, wondering for the first time if her strength is a veneer. If the slights do slice beneath her skin, crawl into her soul and nestle there. _

_ "I am different." she shrugs her shoulders, and I cannot deny the truth of her words, though their brusqueness disturbs me. _

_**Assurances too quickly spoken convey a heart in turmoil, **__my bardic instincts whisper through my thoughts. _

_ "Not in my eyes." I shrug and take my own satchel, full of herbs and oils, bandages…not traps, poisons, disguises. It is a reassuring weight, not a damning one, and a burden I am all too glad to carry. "Unless…would my being there inhibit your work? It is not only humans who are prejudiced, Giselle."_

_ Giselle smiles and smoothes the front of her Chantry robes. "You bring me back down to earth." she tilts her head at just the right angle, and the sun gleams in her eyes, halting my heartbeat. "Please come, Kathyra. Your presence will inhibit nothing, except perhaps my temper, whose reins seem to be loosening at far too fast a rate."_

_ "Sister Giselle." Dorothea's voice cuts through what might have been a touching moment, quenching the sparks with the ice of her presence. "Brother Alphonse has just informed me that you intend to spend today outside of the clinic."_

_ "Yes, Revered Mother." Giselle replies. "Kathyra and I are going to the alienage."_

_ "You most certainly are not." Dorothea shakes her head._

_ "No." Giselle shakes her head, blood rushing to her cheeks as her lips tighten with anger. "No. I will __**not**__ endure another vitriolic tirade against the elves. Not from any lips, Dorothea, not even your highly __**esteemed**__ ones."_

_ Dorothea frowns. "Always on the offensive, sister. Our squabbles completely aside, there is a reason that I forbid you to leave. The Circle sent three healers to the alienage, two of them elven. At present, __**both**__ elven mages are gravely ill. They have been placed in quarantine, while the other is unscathed. I cannot afford for you to be endangered."_

_ "You cannot afford," Giselle paces in front of Dorothea, and the movement of her body is mesmerizing, "__**you **__cannot __**afford. **__The clinic was opened to perpetuate good works, the art of healing…I took an oath to help __**everyone**__ in need."_

_ "At risk to your own life?" Dorothea inquires, and my blood runs cold. _

_ Giselle throws up her hands. "I am constantly surrounded by sickness, regardless of my location. I have been __**called**__ to alleviate suffering. Why now do you demand I mitigate risk?"_

_ "Because the disease, whatever it may be, seems only to affect those of elven blood." Dorothea sniffs. "But if you will not be persuaded, then you will not be persuaded. I wash my hands of the entire matter."_

_ The Revered Mother leaves and Giselle turns to me. "Shall we?"_

_ "Don't go." I breathe, feeling my heart beat faster as Giselle's anger re-ignites the arresting hues of green in her eyes. _

_ "What?"_

_ "Giselle, it isn't safe. Please don't go."_

_ "Have you lost your mind!?" she demands, and for the first time, that righteous wrath I have seen her direct towards others is aimed…at me. "After all that you just said, that it did not matter, that you held no prejudice…"_

_ "Dorothea wants you dead." I interrupt before I find myself speechless and hiding from her anger. _

_ Giselle stops speaking, staring at me, questions in her gaze. "What?"_

_ "Think of it, Giselle." I implore, spreading my hands before her. "Keeping news of the plague from you until now, then stating most emphatically that you are not to leave, just as you are readying to depart? She knows you will not listen, and I would hazard that she __**hopes**__ that your combative nature will lead you directly into a trap that could not have been better laid if planned."_

_ "She…she is a revered mother of the chantry." Giselle shakes her head, not wishing to believe that such malice could exist in a mortal heart. But I knew…I knew that it did, and that, most often, it would be acted upon. "Kathyra, you're wrong. You have to be. Dorothea is many things, but she would not attempt to…"_

_ "There is a well-trained staff on hand at the clinic." I stand firm, as she has shown me how to do. "She no longer has need of you, Giselle. But, as a mother of the chantry, she cannot, in good conscience, set you adrift. However, she __**can**__ make you a martyr, a heroic tale to convert all those who would take oaths and learn your profession...aiding the Chantry in furthering its power. Please, do not fall into her trap. Let me go in your stead."_

_ "You would do that for me?" her glance reveals nothing, but her tone is one of…awe?_

_**I would do anything for you, Giselle. Anything. **_

_ "Yes, if you will let me."_

_ I can see the internal battle within her, the knowledge that the woman who had showed her what, at first, seemed a kindness, was not conspiring to end her. She worries her lower lip with her teeth and closes her eyes in defeat. _

_ "I have to." she states, and my heart sinks. "Kathyra, it is no slight on you, or your considerable knowledge and talents. But by all the gods in their heavens combined, I __**will **__**not**__ be Dorothea's puppet. Let that woman and her prejudice stoop to such a level; I will not be dissuaded from my calling by such a petty thing as fear."_

_ "Your life is at risk, because of your elven blood." I continue to argue. My heart is kicking against my ribs, fierce with worry, screaming with warnings. _

_ "Well," Giselle adjusts her satchel, "we shall see which half of my blood is the stronger."_

_ "Giselle, please," __**show no emotion; reveal your heart to no one, lest they use it against you**__, "I am…worried. I do not want…"_

_ She turns to me, and her smile stills my tongue. "Do not worry for me, Kathyra. I have no concern for myself."_

_ "Why not, after what was revealed?"_

_ "You're with me." she turns and exits the room, leaving me stupefied, tongue-tied, confused, and indescribably __**happy**__…even though anxiety continues to gnaw at my heart. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Kathyra**

_"Gods in their heavens collide." Giselle breathes. _

_ The gates to the alienage are barred, and my heart burns with a deep anger. I have been in cages, mentally, emotionally, spiritually bound. To see anyone tied down, forbidden to leave with physical walls and gates…it does not sit well within me, and I can but imagine that the same rings true for Giselle. _

_ We approach the guards and my mind begins the process of formulating plans, disarming them, the weak points in their armor; how to subdue them before a cry for aid can be raised. _

_**In full view, that will be difficult to manage, but at close range, their spears will be ineffective. It will be all too easy to…no. Why am I even pondering such things? I. Am. **__**Not**__** that person any longer. **_

_ But I wonder, in the back of my mind, if I will ever cease thinking in the manner of the bard; if I will ever find the need to look over my shoulder gone. _

_**Can I accept such a thing? Can I ever accept the things I have done, including the atrocities that have no memory to solidify them? Am I truly working towards my redemption, or merely using this to repress the darkness that remains lingering in my heart. **_

_ "Guardsmen, what has happened here?" Giselle asks the guard, who wears a sergeant's insignia. I keep my head lowered, not recognizing their faces, but unsure if they will recall mine. _

_ "It's a damn plague, sister." the sergeant explains. "The alienage has been ordered closed, seeing as it only affects the elves, and the nobles have no wish to see their slaves taken ill. Takes gold to replace those, you know."_

_ "Maker's blessing if you ask me." the other guard chimes in. "Something needs to cull the population. Elven scum breeding like rats…it's disgusting."_

_ Giselle turns a frightening shade of white and I can see the trembling in her hands as she struggles to restrain herself. _

_ "Open the gates." she orders, with a new tone in her voice that I have never heard before. It is ice and malice, the tremors of the earth before it splits in two. _

_ "We are under orders…"_

_ "I am a physician of the Chantry." Giselle interrupts, lifting a silencing hand. "My apprentice and I will not be barred entry or exit."_

_ "Waste of time." the bigot guard comments as the sergeant signals for the opening of the gates. _

_ Giselle and I enter through the gates narrow doors and the physician turns to me, her eyes over-bright with the sheen of tears. _

_ "Kathyra," she breathes, "is all the world so hateful? So petty and spiteful because of a different appearance, a separate way of life, a varied pantheon?"_

_ "Do you actually question the truth of it?" I ask as we walk towards a lone strangled tree, desperate to grow in a city made of stone and deprived of anything resembling life. _

_ "I have no wish to do so, but it would seem to be flung in my face day after day after day. Perhaps my father was too indulgent, my mother unwise in allowing me my dreams. It is not right that I walk in freedom while those no less like me are herded like cattle into pens, considered fit to be nothing more than servants, bought and sold at auction like fucking furniture and accorded less worth."_

_ The strength she carries always with her seems to fade at the despondency of her words and my heart goes out to her. I know the consistent accusations of worthlessness, my name reviled as leather strikes against my skin. But I know the hope she has inspired in me, the dreams that have begun once more to dance behind my eyes, far out of reach as they seem. _

_ "It may not be right, Giselle, but it is needed." I tell her as I examine the abandoned streets and the red marks upon the doors of several dwellings, marks placed there to indicate which houses had succumbed to the plague, and those who still stood a chance at avoiding it. _

_ "What do you mean, Kathyra?" _

_ "You are…you are different." __**tread carefully, Kathyra. Protect yourself. **__"How many people, elven, human, dwarf, remain as they are simply because they know no other way of life? Because their fathers and their father's fathers have accepted their fate, too weak to see something different."_

_ "You always speak as one talking of others, when in truth you are depicting yourself." Giselle accuses, but she is flawlessly kind, and there is a smile present to tame what otherwise might be vicious words. "What is the intent of your truth, trickster?"_

_ A smile spreads across my features. I am finding that the expression is brought to bear with much more ease, and it is never a façade or a farce as before, but an honest depiction of emotion. _

_ "You are the spirit of hope, Giselle." I attempt to speak as she does, honest, earnest, no fripperies and metaphors to disguise the intent of my words. "I thought myself doomed to a life of…of evil. Until you came into my life, freely speaking of your heritage, revealing an unembittered heart in the face of great prejudice. You are proof that liberty can be achieved, that the endless cycle of servitude and slavery can be done away with. Your freedom is not something unfair…it is something that is necessary for change."_

_ Giselle gazes into a faraway distance. "Will you revile me if I say that sometimes the will to fight vanishes from my heart?"_

_ Her confession touches me, knowing that I am witness to the intimate thoughts of her heart, a place that, she has confessed to me, none other had ever been privy to. _

_ "Will you revile me if I tell you that I wished to die even after you had saved my life?" I return a question. _

_ Giselle considers my inquiry and shakes her head. "No." she answers. "Such a thing is…it is __**human**__ nature."_

_ We pause at the base of the tree and I turn to her, seeing her lips quivering as she looks at the squalor that bigotry and ignorance have doomed her people to. _

_ "It is __**mortal**__ nature." I tell her. "If I have learned one thing from you, Giselle, it is that beneath the skin, with its form, its covering, its concealment…we all bleed red. We are all the same."_

_ "Why does it seem that you are the __**sole**__ human with open eyes?" the physician wonders aloud, lighting a hope in my heart. _

_ "Because I am the sole human who has spent this much time in your presence." I reply without thinking, realizing my mistake as blood rushes to my cheek in a tell-tale indicator of truth. _

_ "We should…we should set about our work." Giselle alters the flow of conversation, walking to the first door she sees with a red mark._

_ I follow, confused and bewildered, for she has never fled from a conversation, no matter its depth or intensity. That is…that was…my pattern of behavior, until recently. I open my mouth to ask what I have done wrong when Giselle turns and faces me. I immediately seal my lips when I see a careful mask set in place._

_**The implacable physician…the woman with no doubts and no fears. The woman who could save the world. The woman I am beginning to lo…no, Kathyra. I do not even know what such a thing entails, much less the chance of having such an emotion flung back in my face. I could not…bear the pain. **_


	16. Chapter 16

**Kathyra**

"Maker's breath, Leliana." Kestrel's voice was louder than I had ever heard it. "Your skin is cold as ice. What were you doing out there?"

"Taking some air." I could hear the smile ever present in Leliana's voice, though her words trembled out between chattering teeth. "At least the wind has picked up, in our favor."

"A mercy that, though you don't have to chill yourself to the bone to discover that not _every_ god despises us." Kestrel sounded like an over-worried mother.

_She is so young. _I thought, and it grieved me. _There are so many who say that life is unkind to the aged. That we forget them in ignorance and youth, but time is changing. It is the young I see over-burdened and called to witness things and perform deeds that their hearts are not yet ready to grasp the enormity of. _

I looked at Leliana, thinking of her age, remembering her confession that she had watched the woman she loved die…and be brought back to life. Such a thing was painful, I knew it from the faces of those I had successfully resuscitated.

_The good die young_, I wanted to weep for the cruelties of the world, for the god who had allowed the one who first showed me the truth of love to be taken from my side. The god who had brought my path in line with Leliana…and her love, and her faith, and her unshakeable hope…_a heart that lies in another woman's hands. A woman who is far better than I. Why? Why this torment in the name of that which is most beautiful? I do not understand it. I do not understand that while my body wishes to give up the fight, it continues on. _

_ One look at her…and I want to live._

I rested my eyes from the dim light of the oil lamps, willing myself back into slumber, away from the pain, away from the questioning of sanity and my heart…and back into a life before I knew the truth. The truth of my fate…that destiny had written for me a life of loneliness and longing…a destiny that snatched away the good in my world, or held it just out of reach…a beautiful, torturous temptation.

* * *

_"We owe a debt we cannot repay you, Sister Giselle." the leader of the city elves speaks, reaching out to Giselle with his hand, extending a bond from one to the other. "May the Creators smile on your many kindnesses." _

_ Every word of warning I have ever received flares through my mind as Giselle takes the man's hand. His eyes are glassy with fever, his skin clammy and pale, for the plague has taken him and I can see in both the elf and Giselle's eyes that he is not meant for this world much longer. _

_**How can you endanger your life**__? I wonder as they release each other, Giselle reaching out again as the elf stumbles, helping him to keep his feet. _

_ "You owe us nothing, Keeper." Giselle says, her voice low and thick with exhaustion and grief. _

_ The aura of death hovers over this place, ruthless, merciless, cold. The doors marked with red open to houses of grief and sorrow and pain, mothers watching their children die, wives clinging to their husband's hand, prayers in all tongues sent skyward, hoping against hope that a god dwells there who listens and answers. _

_ The elf laughs. "You accord me a title that has been lost to us." he shakes his head and coughs, a deep, broken sound that sends chills down my spine. "We don't have Keepers any longer, sister…not here in the cities."_

_ "You are a guide and guard for those lost here." Giselle's kindness shines through her beleaguered eyes. "Such actions can restore what was lost to its former glory. Perhaps not in the same manner, but in the spirit of it, which, in the eyes of the Creators, __**must**__ be the same thing."_

_ "Such wisdom in one so young." the city-elf Keeper echoes my thoughts. "Go. Please go. You have done all you can for us, and we are thankful for it. And to you," he nods his head in my direction, the first elf in this place who has looked at me with anything more than disdain, "I thought the shemlen had forgotten kindness. I was proven wrong. Please," he reaches out and touches my arm and I flinch, struggling to keep myself under control, for his sake, for Giselle's, for __**mine**__, "please continue in your good works. Prove," he coughs again, long and harsh and painful, "…prove…to my children…and their children…that hate not need run so rampant."_

_ Giselle looks at me in expectation as the Keeper removes his hand. I know that there is something I need to say, but I have always broken my word. The thought of giving it to another, following through on it, __**keeping**__ it sacred and near to my heart until it is fulfilled is a foreign thought to me. _

_**But I want it. I want my word to be trusted. I want it to be the foundation of who I will become. **_

_"I will." I swear the first vow I have ever taken, that was not broken for me. _

_ "Ma serannas, ma falon." he tells me, and though I do not know the meaning of the words, they strike a fire in my heart that does not fade as Giselle and I walk from the alienage._

_ The physician remains silent, and I look at her in worry. Her brows are creased in confusion, but I can see no sign of the rampant sickness. The elves had told us of the plague, swift and unrestricted. The high fever, fluid in the lungs, the feeling of struggling for breath as the sickness progresses. They informed us that even the slightest scratch would refuse to stop bleeding and that, towards the end, as the body weakened, the veins would burst, bleeding beneath unbroken skin. _

_**This cannot happen to her**__, my heart begins to gallop in my chest as I look at the current pallor of Giselle's skin. __**Even though we were careful, this sickness is so virulent…although she is but half-elven…there is still a chance.**_

_"Are you all right?" I ask, unable to keep my concern to myself any longer._

_ She faces me and her brow smooths and her eyes glint in the moonlight, as only an elf's can...I find it magical. "Fine, Kathyra. Simply tired."_

_ "You seem lost in thought." I press the issue, determined to discover the reason that the normally talkative physician has quieted. _

_ "He spoke to you…in the old language." she speaks, nearly a whisper. "He called you friend." _

_ "Does this…trouble you?" I ask, wondering if I had done something amiss. _

_ "Kathyra," she worries her lower lip with her teeth, "in no history I have ever heard or read, has an elf ever called a human such a thing."_

_ "Perhaps the world is changing." I look to the sky, no longer able to gaze into the fire in her eyes, lest I question its meaning, lest I give into the desire to make it shine brighter, and in doing so snuff it out. _

_ "Perhaps you are changing the world…" she mumbles, trailing off as we continue the long, exhausted walk back to the Chantry. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Kathyra**

_The next morning dawns with a vengeance. Thick, angry clouds blot out the sun and the air is thick with the scent of a storm soon to break. I stand at the window and inhale deeply, enjoying the burn of the salt as the wind carries the smell of the ocean. _

_**I remember dreading moments such as these, **__I savor the time I have been given, time to analyze my thoughts and, through them, discover the identity of the woman away from plots and schemes, darker dreams of minds more insidious and hands more powerful. __**When the light of the sun gave way beneath the storm, for darkness is the bardic calling, and when it rains, the wealthy bleed and the powerful tremble, though neither know the reason why. **_

_A soft knock at the door jars me from thoughts soon to become melancholic, but it is not Dorothea's authoritative demand for entry, nor Giselle's chipper morning greeting. I walk to the door and unlock it, shamed as I realize that none of the other Chantry residents insisted on protection for their rooms, satisfied that the caliber of those by whom they were surrounded was above reproach. _

_ I knew that it was not so. _

_ "Good morning, Kathyra." one of the clinic physicians, Mirien, smiles up at me. "I have been looking for Sister Giselle all morning; I needed to inquire of her expertise, but she is nowhere to be found. Is she with you?"_

_ "No." I answer, perhaps too brusque. _

_ Worry ignites in my heart and I exit my room, striding down the hallway towards Giselle's quarters. Mirien struggles to keep up, taking two steps for every one of mine. _

_ "Is everything all right?" the inquisitive little woman asks. "You've gone the most interesting shade of white, and your hands are trembling."_

_ "I don't know." my words come out in a growl and Mirien's pace falters. _

_ "Kathyra, you're frightening me." Mirien pants as I pause outside Giselle's door, debating on knocking or simply bursting in and answering my worries. _

_ "Giselle, are you awake?" I call out to the woman who normally rises before the sun. _

_**If she is taken ill, will she even be able to answer? **__my heart begins racing as no reply comes from behind the door. _

_ "Giselle, Mirien is with me." I call another warning. "We're coming in."_

_ I open the door and survey the room. All is in Giselle's normal order, the bed made, the shelves without a speck of dust. The leather bound books in which she spends her nights are in their normal places, undisturbed. _

_ I clench my hands into fists, imagining the worst. Giselle, ill and alone, wracked and confused by fever, unable to cry for aid. _

_ "I knocked and she didn't answer." Mirien's incessant banter keeps up as I search the washroom and the closet. "So I scoured the clinic and chapel, but she wasn't anywhere. Could she have gone back to the alienage?"_

_ "She would not do so without me." I breathe, hoping that I speak true, unwilling to give any pertinent information to the Chantry's most notorious gossip. The last thing I need is Dorothea at my door, inquiring as to an "inappropriate bond" between apprentice and master. _

_ "Between two sets of eyes, we might have more luck." Mirien states the obvious and I turn to her, scarcely able to conceal my frustration and alarm. _

_ "Go to the kitchens and inquire if she has been seen there." I tell her. "I will check the clinic's storeroom."_

_ "Oh," she pauses, staring at the ceiling with almost vacant eyes, "I didn't think of that."_

_ Mirien leaves and I set out for the clinic at a dead run, disrupting a group of Chantry brothers returning from morning prayers and nearly trampling the poor woman cleaning the floors. I race through the clinic, ignoring the eyes that stare at me as though I have gone mad._

_ I burst into the storeroom, breathing heavily, nearly collapsing in relief as Giselle turns from the shelves, places her hand on her hip, and laughs. _

_ "Running to or from, trickster?" she asks as I lean against the doorway, catching my breath, using the moniker that from any other source would be an insult and an irritant. _

_ "Maker's breath, Giselle." I recover from my madcap dash through the Chantry halls and move towards her, examining her for any sign of sickness. "You frightened me."_

_ "What on earth are you on about?" she raises her brows._

_ "Mirien came looking for you this morning." I explain, running my hand through my tousled hair. "She said you were not to be found anywhere. I went to your room and when…when you were not there, I thought…"_

_ Understanding crosses her features and she smiles. It is a soft, tender, almost giddy expression, not condescending or patronizing. "You thought I had taken ill." she whispers. "And that is what brought you here at a furious sprint?"_

_ "Yes." I answer, as the blood that had fled my face and left me pale at Mirien's revelations rushes back with a fury, staining my cheeks a brilliant red. "Mirien said she had looked for you in the clinic and the chapel…"_

_ "And the daft little chit had completely forgotten to check the storeroom or the kitchens." Giselle laughs, and the sound comforts me in a way nothing else can. "I do apologize for worrying you, Kathyra, but as you can see, I am quite well."_

_ "Are you certain?" I question her as she lifts a hand to cover a yawn. "You look tired."_

_ "I am." she nods. "I remained awake after we returned, looking for something to cure the plague, and, barring that, something to at least alleviate the symptoms. If…" her expression darkens and I yearn to take the lack of light from her and absorb it into myself, for I am comfortable with shadows, and she is not, "…if a cure cannot be effected, then at least we can keep the victims from dying in pain."_

_ "Any success?" I attempt to align my thoughts with hers, away from the woman terrified of loss and loneliness, and back to the physician's apprentice. _

_ "Not for a cure, no." Giselle stares at the shelves as though demanding they speak to her and reveal the knowledge that she seeks. "The symptoms are ridiculously varied. The fever and fluid in the lungs are not worrisome in and of themselves, and could be some sort of influenza or pneumonia, but the __**bleeding**__." she stresses the word. "I can think of no illness that thins the blood and weakens the veins in addition to the raging fever and pleural effusion. Separate, yes. Together, no."_

_ I watch as she begins to pace, tapping her chin with the tip of her index finger, thinking aloud as though I am not present._

_ "In addition, how is it contracted? Through air? Food? Touch?" she wonders. "And why only __**elves**__? Sicknesses do not discriminate, and our…" her eyes flash to mine and she stumbles over her words, "…our physiologies are not so different. If elves are falling ill, then humans should be as well."_

_ "You said the symptoms do not make sense." my thoughts begin racing, attempting to catch up with Giselle's._

_ "Not as an illness, no." she concurs, staring at me with those riveting eyes. "What are you thinking, Kathyra?"_

_ "Andraste's Flames, Mischief, Viper's Kiss, Layman's Excuse." I speak aloud as I attempt to piece together this puzzle. _

_ "Can you make sense of what you just said?" Giselle asks, stepping in close, as though we are speaking in secret. _

_ "Poisons." I arrive at my conclusion. "Those are but a few of the poisons whose effects would resemble the symptoms of this 'plague' exactly."_

_ Realization strikes Giselle and her brows lower as confusion swirls in her eyes. "Poisoning on such a massive scale?" she inquires. "It's unthinkable. Who would do such a…why, Kathyra? Tell me why? And how, if you can."_

_ "A test, perhaps?" I back away as her eyes glare into my very soul, seeming to vilify me for my theory, though I have __**no hand**__ in what is being done…if I am even correct, which I pray that I am not. "It would have to be a mixture of two, perhaps three different toxins, but it would appear that someone is attempting to craft a poison that is seemingly nothing more than a terrible sickness."_

_ "Why. The. Elves?" she demands, and I can feel the heat in her voice, the anger in her heart. _

_ "Because there are none who care." I hang my head in shame, shame that I was once among those who did not notice, did not care, and did not see that a race no less our equal was forced into servitude. "You heard the gate-guard yesterday, Giselle. If it is poison, the mastermind behind its making chose his test bed perfectly. I am sorry, I…"_

_ "It's not your fault." she says, and there is sincerity in her voice. "In fact, if not for you…I would have attempted to combat this as an illness. Against such a poison…can an antidote be crafted? And where would the source originate? It would have to be in the Alieange…"_

_ "If I can isolate the poisons, an antidote could be easily distilled." I say, and her eyes light with such hope, I feel I have given her the world. "But if I were to attempt to distribute a lethal toxin on a widespread scale, to one race alone…" the answer comes to me all too quickly and I glance at Giselle, horror in my eyes. "You did not drink from the well, did you?"_

_**I have always carried a canteen with me wherever we venture, too afraid to accept another's hospitality, too accustomed to trusting none but myself. But Giselle…these thoughts have never even entered her mind. **_

_I wait for my answer as Giselle searches through her memory of yesterday. "No." she answers at last, and as we leave the storeroom my blood runs cold. _

_**Giselle…you never learned to lie…did you?**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Kathyra**

"Any word?" Kestrel asked as the barest sound of a footfall on the deck signaled Leliana's presence.

"We are making good time." Leliana answered, and I breathed a sigh of relief, though not for myself.

I knew, that by this point, there was nothing to be done. It would be a slow, excruciatingly painful death, little by little. I would remain conscious as life slipped away, feeling every agonizing moment as my body lost its will to live.

"I've brought some food." Leliana crossed in front of me and the light from the oil lamps turned the tresses of her hair into a living flame. "If you think you can eat."

Kestrel sighed; the notion of partaking of food in a room that stank of blood and death far from appealing.

"I should." the templar private relented and stood, gasping and tucking her hand beneath her arm.

"Kestrel," Leliana went to her, "what is it? Are you all right?"

"Fine." she spat the word through gritted teeth. "I think I may have been grazed by the ship's mast when it splintered."

"And you wait until now to tell me?" Leliana asked. "Let me see, Kestrel."

"I am fine, I assure you." the bravado in her tone was unmistakable, and I smiled for the pride of the young.

Leliana gently removed Kestrel's hand and inspected the wound. Kestrel winced and looked away as Leliana probed the damaged flesh.

"It's not bad." Kestrel insisted, as though she could will it into truth.

* * *

_The slight hiss of pain jars me from the book I am buried in and I look up as Giselle drops her knife and cradles her palm to her chest. The brilliant red of blood flows over her skin and I rise from my chair with such force that it is knocked backwards; my book flies to the floor, forgotten. _

_ I rush to Giselle's side, pulling her hand away, seeing the tear in her palm from the tiny, sharp blade she uses for cutting and preparing herbs. _

_ "Stay here." I tell her as my heart hammers in my chest, as I remember every symptom of the poison in vivid detail. _

_ I remove a roll of bandaging from my pack and hurry back to Giselle. She smiles as I take her hand and begin wrapping it. _

_ "It's not bad." she assures me with a soft smile. "And you should know better than to let me play with sharp objects when I am fatigued."_

_**Why do you persist in the lie? And will you forgive me for not demanding you give me the truth? Your life is in danger, Giselle, and you blithely go about your work as through nothing is the matter. **_

_I continue working, unable to respond, unable to speak past the fear in my heart. There are so many things that Giselle, in all of her knowledge and experience, simply does not know. Even my theory of poisoning has its flaws, and I can find nothing that explains how it would be possible…and yet…it is. _

_**Most toxins that affect the blood have to be introduced **__**through**__** the blood. If the source of the poison **__**is**__** the water supply, then somehow the toxin has been altered. But how? Some things…some things are immutable by their very nature. **_

_ "Kathyra?" Giselle asks, jolting me back into reality when I realize this must be the third or fourth time she has called my name. "Worrying over nothing is not like you, trickster. Is something wrong?"_

_I tie off the bandage, sigh, and look into the glimmering eyes that haunt my dreams. "It's not going to stop bleeding, Giselle."_

_ Her lips part in surprise and she stares at me, looking for words, for a defense…but she is an honest woman, and all lies must find their end eventually. _

_ "When did you realize?" she asks._

_ "The moment you lied." for some reason, I wish to apologize for my training, to beg forgiveness for the eyes that can see through deception._

_ Giselle pinches her brows together and her lips tremble. "I keep…I keep believing that if I do not give in, that nothing will happen." she says, and for the first time I see fear in her gaze as she looks down at her bandaged hand. "I suppose there is no denying it now. I…" she looks up at me through a sheen of unshed tears, "…I do not want to be afraid, Kathyra. It's not my nature, it is not who I am. But this…who can fight something like this…even someone who had done nothing but fight from the day they first took breath. Fighting to live, fighting to learn, fighting to keep what was earned, fighting for the lives of others…"_

_ She trails off and I am possessed by the strangest urge to embrace her. __**But I cannot carry this for her. I do not even know if she would accept any sort of comfort from me. Her reaction…when I spoke of poisons…as though she blamed me. **_

_ "But I am afraid, Kathyra." she admits. _

_ "Why?" I ask, thankful that we are alone in her room, not in the clinic proper, where there would be inquisitions and wildly speculative theories to discomfort and alarm. _

_ She does not speak the words on the tip of her tongue, but swallows them and searches for others, leaving me wondering at her omission. _

_ "I have been able to conquer all that I have faced, but this…this outstrips my knowledge, and there is a truth I have known from the beginning that rings inside my mind with every beat of my heart. I have seen it proven, Kathyra…" she begins to tremble. _

_ "What truth?" I inquire._

_ She turns from me and wipes her eyes, continuing to stare at the floor as she murmurs, "No one heals the physician."_

_**That's not true**__, my thoughts insist. __**I will not **__**let**__** it be true. Even if I have to force myself back into the depths of hell, I **__**will**__** save you. **_

_ She lifts her bandaged palm and stares at the red that has already soaked through the layers of linen. Her eyes meet mine once more and she is more vulnerable than I have ever seen when she whispers, "This is real, isn't it?"_

_ "Yes." I nod. _

_ "I do not want to…"_

_ "You will not." I stop her before she can say the last word, the word that will drive the nightmare further into her mind. _

_ She reaches out to me without pulling her hand away, instead, it is hovering there, an invitation, a request, a __**need**__. I take her hand in mine, alarmed by the temperature of her skin. _

_ "You're burning up." I breathe, revealing something she has known all along. _

_ "I'm sorry." _

_ Giselle's eyelids flutter and she sways on her feet. I pull her into my arms as she collapses, kneeling to soften the impact. I remain still, letting her gather her breath and her wits. My breathing goes shallow as I realize that I have not held another in this way since Marjolaine and I were children. _

_ "What…what happened?" her breath is a whisper across my cheek, warm and devastating. She stares up at me and her uninjured hand covers mine. Giselle's eyes widen and she struggles to stand. "Kathyra, forgive me, I…"_

_ "Lie still." I caution, my heart breaking as I see my only friend, the sole compassionate and caring heart that I have ever seen, attempt to leave my embrace…because she cares for me. _

_ Giselle rests her head against my chest and my heart begins to beat faster…not with fear. I support her shoulders with one arm and place the other beneath the bend of her knees, standing and carrying her to her bed. With great care, I set her on the mattress, cradling her head until it rests on the pillow. _

_ Giselle smiles and it is forceful, determined, and so earth-shatteringly gorgeous that I feel weak. _

_ "You're stronger than you look, trickster."_

_ I attempt to smile as I take her bandaged hand and rest it on her stomach. "Keep it elevated, madam physician."_

_ I turn away for but a moment…_

_ "Kathyra!" Giselle cries, alarm in her voice. _

_ I spin and go to my knees beside the bed. "What is it?" I ask, resisting the desire to thread my fingers in her golden hair. _

_ "Don't leave." panic streams from her eyes. "Please, don't leave."_

_ "I am not going anywhere." I promise her. "And I am going to fix this."_

_**Maker, give me strength. Listen to a sinner…and let my stained hands…save those which are clean.**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Kathyra**

_**How innocuous it seems, just...sitting there. **__I stare into the water, daring it to reveal its secrets. It had taken three silver pieces to convince one of the elven servants in the Chantry to go to the Alienage and return with the proof I required. _

_**I should have gone myself**__, I bite my lip and rise from the table, knowing that it takes time for the additives I have placed in the water to do their work in identifying the toxin. __**But I promised not to leave her…I cannot break such a promise. **_

_ I walk to the bed, watching as Giselle sleeps fitfully. Her cheeks are stained a dangerous red, indicative of a high fever. Her hair lies scattered on the pillow, tangled and tossed by relentless dreaming. I sit down beside her and gently lift her hand, unwrapping the blood-soaked bandaging. _

_ I wince as I examine the gash in her palm, an accidental wound that should have been trivial, easily healed with only a faint scar. But the blood refuses to clot, to close the wound. Giselle continues to bleed as I bandage her hand anew._

_**It is a useless gesture, for both of us know that the wound will not close. It is simply for comfort, for familiarity…but a bard wastes no action. Everything has its purpose, everything its place and time and its cause and effect. Have I changed in so short a time? **_

_"Are…are all hands…trained for weapons…so gentle?" the soft, light voice draws my attention from my action and I feel relief as I see that her eyes are open and clear, not yet glassed with the delirium of the fever's final stage. _

_ "You're unwell." I tell her, uncomfortable with the glimmer in her gaze. "Otherwise you would not accord me traits that I shall never possess."_

_ "So doubtful." she reaches out and her blood stained finger brushes across my cheek. I allow the familiarity, knowing that, were she well, she would not consider such a thing. "So afraid, with no reason. I…I trust your hands, Kathyra."_

_ "Why would you say such a thing?" I inquire. _

_ "You are…intimately acquainted…with death." Giselle shifts and she hisses through gritted teeth. Her words cut deep into my heart, but I cannot deny the truth of them and I revile myself for it. _

_ "No no no." Giselle attempts to rise, but stops short, breathing heavy and harsh. "Don't…go…to your dark place. I…I meant it…differently."_

_ "You cannot make it different." I finish the bandaging and return her hand to its place. "It is not something I take pride in, Giselle. I…I asked you to teach me, because I wanted away from that life and those memories, fragmented as they are."_

_ "It is why you have such a gift for healing." Giselle whispers, and for a moment, the world ceases to spin as her expression all but demands that I see myself in her eyes. "I…I lack something, Kathyra…and, seeing you, seeing your natural talent for this work…I know what it is."_

_**How?**__ I ask myself. __**How is it that you can lack in anything, Giselle? You have everything that I desire, strength, presence, an unshakeable faith in yourself that I envy. **_

_"I do not see how such a thing is possible."_

_ "Of course you do not." Giselle smiles, the slightest lift of her pallid lips. "Your world is still drawn in stark shades. But you…you know death, you have seen it, felt it…brought it to bear. Somehow…when you heal…it is instinctual, for you know exactly how death will use the patient's injury or sickness. Even now you know…how it is taking my people…and me."_

_ Her stare is intent, but I cannot formulate a reply. Instead, I turn away from her and get to my feet, walking to the table. _

_ "Kathyra, forgive me." Giselle speaks, her voice so weak I can scarcely make it out. "I never meant…"_

_ The words break off into a spasm of coughing. I rest my hands on the table, listening to every hacking cough, every gasping breath, feeling each one of them as a lash across my back and a fist in my gut. My shoulders tense as the muscles bunch into shrieking knots._

_**Is this the life I truly wanted? **__I ask myself. __**To listen and watch as someone so…so…so **__**precious**__** is run mercilessly through a gauntlet of suffering? Maker, why? Why Giselle? **__**I**__** am the criminal, **__**I**__** am the murderer. If there is death to be dealt, let it be **__**me**__** who carries that burden. It is…it is as she said. I am intimately acquainted with death, and she is a stranger…there is so much life left for her. **_

_I drag myself from my thoughts, determined to solve this cruel riddle. The water still sits there, inert. I glance at the candle I have set to mark time, hating that it has not burned away the proper amount of time. I clench my hands in impotent frustration and turn back, realizing that I must face the beautiful woman who has given me a chance for redemption. _

_ Giselle's eyes are closed when I look at her again, and my heart sinks as I see the tracks of tears her cheeks. _

_**Did I cause those? **__I wonder. __**Have I marred something beautiful once again? **_

_I sit beside her, unable to think of her as simply a patient, even if she is ill. There is a light in her eyes that stuns me to my core every time I chance to witness it. There is music in her smile and when she laughs…Maker, when she laughs…all the world is set aright. _

_**I have never known what it is to love, **__my thoughts frighten me, but I know that they cannot be pushed away forever. __**But I have never been surrounded by such a peace as when Giselle is near. Her simple existence astounds me. Her strength is so encompassing…and I have let it weaken me instead of attempting its emulation. But I…I have to be strong now…for her sake, as she has been for mine. **_

_"Giselle." I begin to shake as I reach out, but I force myself to thread my fingers through those of her uninjured hand, applying the slightest pressure. "Giselle, I am sorry. I should not have turned away."_

_ "Do not pity me, Kathyra." Giselle opens her eyes, still wet with unshed tears. "Please, do not pity me. I could not bear it, not from you."_

_ "I do not…I unlearned that emotion long ago." I tell her. "And I…"_

_ Giselle looks down, noticing out entwined hands. Her eyes fill with alarm and she attempts to pull away, but I keep my hold. _

_ "You…" her voice breaks and she smiles. "__**Thank**__ you." the tears fall like stars from her eyes and I know._

_ I know my heart, wounded, marred, and blackened as it is, is not mine anymore. _


	20. Chapter 20

**Kathyra**

_**"Blue is the color of dreaming." a young woman's voice rings in my ears, bright and cheerful as it has not been for so long. "And you look like a dream, Kathyra."**_

_** I stare into the mirror, turning forth and back before it as the midnight material swirls around my gawky form, not yet a woman, no longer a girl. "Do you truly think so?" I ask, shy, tucking my hair behind my ears.**_

_** Marjolaine giggles and adjusts the wide band of exquisite ribbon around my waist. "Of course, sister dear." her wide eyes smile as she runs her fingers over the intricate embroidery on the bodice of the dress. "You will be simply stunning tonight. I'm sure of it."**_

_** I bite my lip, unsure, but Leron enters the room and I school my face into the mask that he desires…radiant, cheerful, unafraid and unhesitating. **_

_** "Well done, pretty thing." he claps his hands together, slowly, once, twice…three times. "You were right, Marjolaine. The deeper blue favors her complexion."**_

_** "I knew you'd be pleased." my younger sister asserts herself with confidence and the most elegant of curtsies and a hunger lights in Leron's eyes. **_

_** I move to stand in front of Marjolaine, remembering my instructions. A lowered head, tilted hip, inviting smile. Anything to keep that ravenous gaze at bay. "I am ready at your whim, Leron." I tell him, dreading whatever function he has demanded I look my best for. **_

_** "Of course you are," he smiles, "pretty thing. Come along then. It won't do to be late."**_

_** I shudder as I take his extended arm and I look back at Marjolaine, basking in the smile on her face as she flutters her fingers in farewell. "Do not enjoy yourself overmuch without me." she urges and I smile back at her, a smile of secrets and sorrows, but also of joy. **_

_** Blue is the color of dreaming…and the color of mourning…and I will be forever content if I must grieve for the sake of her dreams…**_

* * *

_** Blue is the color of death**__. _

_ I stare at the water as the additives complete their work, changing the clear liquid to a dusky blue, speaking to me in the language of loss, telling me what I feared from the first. It is poison, one of the most deadly, even if it is not the most painful. The Viper's Kiss has no known cure…only wishful preventatives and prayers from the lips of righteous hearts._

_I snuff the candle between my fingers and sigh, going to Giselle's private stock of herbs and oils, scanning the labels written in her careful hand. _

_ I had never wanted to stand here again, hand in hand with the knowledge of death…the woman made in the image of a madman, crafted by deceit and trickery and…and…evil. _

_**How can something of darkness preserve the light? Does not the one extinguish the other? Is it not more powerful? No matter the season, sun cedes to moon. No matter the vivid brightness of dawn, the shadows of the clouds may conceal it. It is the way of the world…that which is bright and beautiful does not survive. **_

_ The sound of muted coughing rakes against my ears like a knife against bone, cold and chilling. I forego my melancholy, my thoughts of pre-emptive defeat, determined to fight, even though I do not know the way. I take what I need from her stores and return to the table, losing my mind in the desperate act of saving a life. _

_**Maker…once again, I beg you. Hear a sinner's prayer. If it be my last act on this earth, let me save the one who is truly good. And if this does not work, if you find my attempt so reprehensible as to deny me success…let me die in her stead. Please. **_

_ I grind the herbs into a fine powder, pouring them into a cup of tea. I leave the tea to cool as I mix the preventative for the second toxin…the one that is killing innocents, masked by the other so that simple minds think it a virulent sickness, not the act of a malevolent heart. _

_I had changed Giselle's bandage three times since she incurred the injury, each time losing more of my sanity, more of my heart, more of my soul...if I still possessed such a thing. I stare at the powder and wish against all dreaming that I had been the one…for I would have died with nothing to give. _

_**She has too much…she **__**gives**__** of all that she is and…and the world will grieve, though it may not acknowledge the cause of its tears. **_

_ I take the mortar and the tea to her bedside and set them on the nightstand. Giselle smiles at me with pale, blue-tinged lips. _

_**Blue is the color of death. **_

_ "How are you feeling?" I ask the question to punish myself, to push myself further, to __**do**__ better, to __**know **__more…it has always worked…it is how I learned…it is how I died, and willingly. _

_ "Tired." her voice rasps as the word leaves her lips and the vulnerability in the sound of it is heartbreaking. "Cold. H…Hard to breathe."_

_ I press the cup of tea into her palm, wincing as the heat from her skin nearly burns me. "Drink this." I tell her, aiding her as she lifts the cup to her lips with a trembling hand. "It is an antidote for the poison. It will curb the fever and ease your breathing."_

_ Giselle finishes the tea and I set the cup aside, taking her injured hand in both of mine as she settles back down onto the pillows. _

_ "So," behind the rasp, behind the weakness, there is a smile and a pride in her voice that I do not comprehend, "you managed to suss this mess out then?"_

_ "I managed to learn things I had no want of knowing." I reply, unwrapping the third blood-soaked bandage. _

_ Her eyes narrow, still that vibrant, haunting green that defies all natural hues. "Kathyra…do me the courtesy of telling me what my knowledge has already granted. I am…I am…"_

_ "No." I shake my head, refusing to finish her sentence, to speak the words that seem to frighten her, for they chill my very blood into ice. "There is still very much about this that does not make sense, but it is in __**no way**__ an end."_

_ "The doubting heart that speaks belief." she murmurs, soft. "An answer and a riddle wrapped in one."_

_ I ignore the strangeness of her words as I examine the wound, frowning as I see that skin at the edges of the cut has gone dark, and that a bruise is spreading across her palm. "How in hell and damnation…"_

_ "What?" she asks. "Please tell me, Kathyra. I need…I need to know."_

_ I take the crushed herbs and place them carefully into the wound, letting the only preventative measure I can supply enter her blood in hopes to save her life. Giselle hisses at the assault and I hold her hand still as she attempts to pull it away. _

_ "I know." I whisper. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry." __**Please forgive me. Forgive me for what I am doing. Forgive me for what I must tell you.**_

_ She breathes through gritted teeth in short, jerking gasps._

_ "The poison is called the Viper's Kiss." I keep her eyes on mine as I bandage the wound yet again. "No…not a poison…a…a venom. And that is why this does not make sense. A toxin that affects the blood must be introduced through the blood, on the blade of a knife or head of an arrow."_

_ "And yet?" her other hand latches around my wrist, squeezing, managing the pain in the only way her beleaguered mind can think of. _

_ "And yet it was in the water." I shake my head. "It is harmless if ingested…there is more at work here than some clever murderous madman."_

_ "But this…this antidote?" she asks, and I wince at the hope in her voice for I know I am soon to drive a blade through the heart of it. "It will work, will it not? No matter what strange method was used to alter the nature of the toxin, it will…it will work?"_

_ "Giselle." I remove my hands from hers, unwilling to touch something so beautiful as I speak the truth I must, for I cannot kill again. "There is no known cure for the Viper's Kiss. What I have given you will slow the poison, but only…only time will tell."_

_ "But I…I have a chance?" she asks, and her voice does not waver, and her eyes do not lower. _

_ "Yes." **only the slightest...but it is still a chance.**_

_ She reaches out and brushes her fingertips across the knuckles of my clenched fist. She smiles and the dark shadows beneath her eyes seem to fade. "Then I fight."_


	21. Chapter 21

**Kathyra**

"Kestrel?" the name crackled through the air, the raspy tremor of a lilting Starkhaven accent, a devilish smile and snapping black eyes. "Kes…you there?"

The faint flicker of light in the corner of the room moved and I could hear the weariness in the templar private's footfalls as Kestrel walked across the cabin and sat down beside her wounded comrade.

"Where else would I be?" she asked, tangling her fingers in the tangled mess of Rylie's curls. "Do you need anything?"

"I need," Rylie coughed and my heart ached with the knowledge that I could not ease the pain of the young warrior's first grave injury. "I need…someone to tell me…that…that this isn't the world. That it isn't all waiting and grief and barely concealed fear. Please, Kes…I feel so weak…I'm not…not used to it. Tell me this changes."

I watched the light dance in Kestrel's eyes, witnessed the war in the young woman's heart. She knew that there would be more blood, that war had come once more to Thedas, and that, for a time, there would be little else but suffering and fear. And yet…those eyes…those eyes too much like Giselle's…they lit up and sang.

"It changes, sweet girl." Kestrel whispered, pressing the faintest of kisses to Rylie's brow. "It changes. I promise."

_But it doesn't. _I swallowed my bitterness and breathed, feeling the pain fire through me once again, though less, much less. _Life is moments placed between excruciating times of waiting…as we wait for our ship to drag itself across the sea to safe harbor, as the Divine waits for the answers of our mission, as Kestrel waits to declare her love, but not to show it…as Leliana waits and prays to be reunited with her Salem…as Giselle waited…so patient…so beautiful…so __**strong. **_

And my heart broke as I wondered if Giselle were still waiting for me, on some unseen, hoped for other side…or if I had left her alone too long.

* * *

_"You are staring out the window again, trickster." Giselle's eyes flutter open for the fourth time since my revelation…the unspoken thoughts between us…that death…no. _

_**She said she would fight. I have to believe her, I have to **__**trust**__** her. After all, **__I turn my eyes to the window and savor the sight of her hair aglow in the ambient light of the sun, __**she fought the death that would have come for me in this very room. If she can make such an effort for a stranger…of how much more value is her own life? **_

_ "How do you feel?" _

_ "Like those four words should no longer be strung together in any variant of sentence." she teases, but the last of her words are faint…breathless. _

_ Giselle shifts and attempts to sit up. I place my hand on her shoulder, the tension in my body easing somewhat as I feel that her temperature has lowered. _

_ "Keep still." I advise. "You'll do nothing but aid the poison's spread by moving overmuch."_

_ She purses her lips together in frustration and my heart beats a fraction faster at the petulant defiance in her expression. "I do not like lying here." she tells me, keeping her voice low. "There is so much to be done, people who need help who need…"_

_ The words die on her lips and I turn my eyes to hers, seeking knowledge in the silence…finding nothing. _

_ The veneer of her strength begins to crumble as tears line the base of her eyes like floodwaters kept at bay. "I am lying to myself again." she whispers. "There are none…there are none who need me, are there, Kathyra?"_

_** I. Need. You. **_

_ "What would possess you to think something so imbecilic?" I ask, and there is a fire in my hands, a need a force, a driving pull that I ignore as I have so many times. _

_ "None have come to seek me." she lifts her uninjured hand and dashes the tears away before they fall. "None have probably even thought to ask."_

_ "That's not…"_

_ "Do you think I do not hear the whispers?" she asks, and her tone rises, with an edge to it like a well-kept, unused blade. "Do you think I do not see the looks? There is no need of me save for when there is __**need**__…and no one heals the physician, and no one cries for the lonely soul, and if tears are prayers then there is no god for me in this world, for mine have gone unanswered and unremedied."_

_**What are you saying? Do you not see the good that you do? Do you not trust the strength that has let you defy those who would be the voices of god in this time? **_

_ "I do not understand." I confess, extending my burning palm, hoping that there is a use for it. _

_ Giselle ignores my offered hand and continues to look into my eyes, and I could swear that she is seeking something, and I know that what she looks for will not be found in my eyes. I have nothing…nothing to render, nothing to give, nothing to repay her. _

_ "You told me once…that you were a bard, a teller of tales and singer of songs." _

_**A crafter of lies, an architect of demise, a thorn in Destiny's paw. **_

_ "Among other things." _

_ "Is there a song for the lonely heart, Kathyra?" she asks. "Did one of skill and a follower of beauty ever take pen in hand write of one who has no world for them? Did my father and mother know that when they mixed their blood that the thing they created would die of the poison in its veins?" _

_ "Giselle, you are not dying." I tell her, firm, frightened as the pallor of her face and the frailty of her body do all they can to convince me otherwise. _

_ "I am always dying, trickster." she counters, coughing into her hand, breathing in shuddering, shallow inhales. "So long have I been content, with my calling and my books and my herbs and my skills…never indulging the thought of another life because I had been given…more than I deserve."_

_**You deserve everything, Giselle. You deserve more than what I could give you, if I even dared to try. **_

_A feather light whisper of skin on skin draws me from the thoughts that venture to dangerous places. Giselle traces the lines on my palm with her fingertips, hesitant, more afraid than ever I have seen her, but it is not the same fear as mine. My fear stems from knowing all too well the consequences of entwined hands and lustful hearts, nakedness and whispers in the dark. Her fear is…_

_ "I have never known a lover's touch." Giselle confides. "For who…" she tucks her hair behind her pointed ear, "…who would desecrate themselves with such a thing as I? From the moment I took breath, I have been unclean, Kathyra. And never did I think to mourn the lack but I…I am not human, and I am not elven, but still…still…I am mortal, am I not? It is mortality that craves love and I. Am. Mortal!"_

_ Her desperate cry catches in her throat and she begins coughing again. I pull her into a sitting position and she grasps me for support as her body trembles like a willow tree in the midst of a storm. Her tears burn into my shoulder and at last her coughing eases and she collapses against me, spent and fearful and…_

_**…lonely. Another heart walking in darkness…but how I do make you **__**see**__**, Giselle? How do I make you understand without sundering your beautiful heart? For I…I have ungentle hands and a tangled spirit not fit for realms of beauty. I shrink at the touch of another…a touch you have not known…a touch I can never give you, no matter if we both desire it. The shadow you cast is too holy for me to stand in. **_

_ "I dream of it." she whispers against my skin, and my nerves spark and a shudder ripples through me, unbidden. "I dream of hands that search, and lips that crave, and warmth that longs to be shared. Before it had no form, and no distinction beyond a phantom of my want…yet lately…my dreams…they craft your hands, your frightened eyes at last at peace…I am tired of those who have need of me, Kathyra. I simply desire…to be wanted. But you...you are...you could never want me...could you?"_

_ Her words lash at me like a maelstrom as I lay her back against her pillows, cushioning her body with my eternally stained, unworthy hands. I know what it is to be wanted, and there is nothing more terrifying, nothing more brutal than when that precious illusion is stripped away. When those who whispered of want spoke from the deep pits of their own desires and let their errant minds run rampant and __**stole**__ what might have been offered. _

_**Do not dream of me, Giselle**__, my heart kicks in my chest like a stallion tearing at his bit. _

_ The physician's eyes flutter closed and her shallow breathing deepens and evens as confessions and poisons and illness sing her back to slumber with their slick black lullabies. I want to give her all that she desires, and yet I am not fit to do so. _

_ "My Giselle." I whisper, knowing that she cannot hear; that I am safe to speak. "If only…only I could. I do...I do want you and if...if I were worthy, beautiful girl, I would __**love**__ you."_


	22. Chapter 22

**Kathyra**

_**Something is not right here. **__I pace the floor in front of Giselle's bed, feeling the pull of the shadows that grow in the corners as the sun begins to set. __**Giselle is young, strong…and yet she is fading. Her body grows cold, her pulse is weak, her breathing far too shallow. **_

_I return to the table and stare into the bowl of blue water as if it has the power to speak to me in my own language. It remains there, holding secrets that I do not understand, even with my knowledge of the darker hearts of men. _

_ "What do you know?" I ask, speaking to the voices that haunted Leron, the voices of the shadows that had seduced Marjolaine…that had come near to seducing me…so many times. _

_**The urge to give in, to falter and fall. I came to that edge…before I died…before my sister killed the bard and Giselle attempted to save…to save the woman. I am different in her eyes, I must be…for she has not changed, though she confesses that I haunt her dreams. Surely no kind God would let the dreams of a healer be tormented by the image of a murderer's hands. **_

_An authoritative rapping on the door turns the warmth near my heart to a shell of ice. A soft moan further rouses me from distraction as Giselle is awakened by the noise. _

_ "Do not get up." I order her as I go to the door, knowing that the knock belongs to only one member of the Chantry…the woman who is often predisposed to making Giselle's life an utter misery. "I will handle this."_

_ I open the door to find myself staring into the heated eyes of Dorothea. _

_ "Is what Mirien said true?" she asks, with no greeting, no inane inquiry as to my well being. "Has Sister Giselle been absent from the clinic the entirety of the day?"_

_ "She is not well." I reply, clenching my hands into fists as the very look on the woman's face makes me desire to strike the arrogance from her expression. _

_ "Oh?" Dorothea's brow raises. "Her errand of mercy turned against her? How dreadful it must be, to fall prey to the weakness in your blood."_

_**You wanted it to happen, you spiteful witch. Do not **__**dare**__** pretend concern. **_

_ I stare at Mother Dorothea, seeing her as only a bard can, reading the expressions behind the shield of her portrayed emotion, using my eyes to pierce the tangled fabric of the heart of a woman too powerful for her own good. _

_**I have killed for so much less…for a whim, for a fancy…for a **__**thrill**__**. **_

_"There are darker things afoot here than a simple plague, Dorothea." I inform her, standing to my full height, refusing to be cowed by this woman. I do not have Giselle to protect me, but she who has always given me strength has need of it now…__**I will not fail her. Even if I cannot love her, I **__**will not**__** fail her. **_

_ "You say that simply because you are overwrought with worry." Dorothea waves a dismissive hand. "If the Maker wills it, Sister Giselle will surely survive." _

_ "The Maker had nothing to do with this." I counter. "It was a direct attack against the alienage; the water source was poisoned."_

_ "Kathyra," Dorothea pushes her way into the room and examines Giselle, who is sitting upright, though her body trembles from the effort. The sheets are stained where her injured hand is pressed against them, supporting her. "A woman in your position should not cling to unrealistically conceived twists of the truth. To comfort your own soul in such a manner discredits your faith."_

_ "It is not…" Giselle coughs, and a thread of blood seeps from her nose and drips over her lip. "…not a lie, Dorothea."_

_ "Nonsense." the Revered Mother snaps, seemingly uncaring as she glares at Giselle with no more mercy than ever she has, in spite of the physician's weakened state. "Had you heeded my warnings, had you understood your own weaknesses and refused to be so stubborn, you would have surely have avoided this fate."_

_ Unable to bear the sight of this any longer, I grasped Dorothea by the shoulder and spun her about, using her shocked and silent indignation to speak my mind. "Dispense with the self-conceived brilliance of your own mind, you blighted harpy. This is someone's plot, someone's ploy, and I swear by all that is sacred in Thedas, this poison would __**kill**__ any who dared drink it, no matter their __**fucking**__ blood."_

_ "Mind your tongue in the Maker's house!" Dorothea reaches back, palm outstretched, but I grasp her wrist, bruising her aging skin. _

_ My other hand reaches for the bowl of deadly toxin and without a thought but to silence Dorothea and save the life of someone who had more right to live, I lift it to my lips. _

_ "Kathyra, no!" Giselle screams and the outburst leaves her coughing, gasping, doubled over. _

_ I spit the water onto the ground as a familiar taste burns my tongue and a scent I know from the nightmares of my former life scalds my senses. __**But no one who has not tasted it would realize…**__I gasp and force my eyes to look at Dorothea as she glares from me to Giselle in confusion, as she loses control of a situation. _

_ "Lyrium." I manage to speak past the fear clouding my mind, the vague flashes of memory that swirl to the forefront of my eyes..._

_**…a lover's caress, a young man's eyes alight with expectation…the shuddering of his breath as he loses his innocence in my body…and his life as he sleeps beside me in blissful, childish ignorance…the feel of chilled flesh as I slip the signet ring from his finger…the sheets blooming crimson as I walk away, leaving him wide-eyed and open mouthed…his throat slit from ear to ear…**_

_"Dorothea, help her, please." Giselle's voice is stained with tears, dragging me back to the waking world, out of the memory that was stolen by magic…and returned by that which makes magic more potent, more powerful. _

_ "Kathyra?" Dorothea kneels down and I realize that I have collapsed to the floor, that my left hand is clenched in a fist as though holding the ring I stole from that man…__**he was so young**__…that boy… "What is going on?"_

_ "Lyrium." I whisper as I unclench my empty hand and push myself to my feet. "That must be how…the poison has been twisted by magic."_

_ "Magic?" Dorothea's eyes flare as she realizes that there might be truth in my words. "Are you telling me that this plague was somehow magically caused?"_

_ "Maker's fucking breath, woman." I choke, forgetting myself. "__**Yes!**__"_

_ "I shall attend to this matter immediately." Dorothea's eyes darken and I __**see**__. _

_ It is all well and good, in her eyes, for Giselle to lose her life in an act of mercy. The stories could be spun to attract the hearts of the naïve and inspire them to service…but the Chantry touched by magic…it could only destroy the reputation that Dorothea has spent her life building. _

_ The Revered Mother dashes out to preserve the world from magic…before it had not mattered that the elves were dying in pain. It had not mattered that Giselle…one of the Chantry's own, no matter the circumstances…might die. _

_**You pathetic wretch**__, my heart burns with anger toward Dorothea. __**You are worse than even Leron…you have the position and power to do good…but instead of setting yourself to that goal, you seek only more power…and higher position. Bitch. **_

_"Kathyra." Giselle calls my name and I turn to her, seeing the pain in her face as she leans forward, the smeared blood on her face and neck. "Kathyra, are you all ri…" the word breaks as she begins coughing so harshly that she cannot breathe. _

_ Pushing away the rancid taste of lyrium in my mouth, the memories and nightmares backspiraling me into torment, I sit beside her and gather her into my arms, running my hand up and down her back. Giselle continues to cough and my heart begins to break as I feel once more the heat of her skin beneath my hands. _

_ Giselle collapses against me as the spasm eases, struggling to breathe as she rests her head on my shoulder. I remember this same moment, so long ago, as Marjolaine clung to me in her fevered dreaming, weeping, begging me to take away the pain, the illness, the hunger and fear. And I failed her…and I lost her…but I had __**loved **__her. _

_ "I'm fine." I assure Giselle...**my Giselle**...for I can hear the questions in the hitching of her breath. "I swear it. Rest now, Giselle. Please rest."_

_ "Why?" the pain in her question scares me. "Why did you do that?"_

_ "I had to save you." I reach up, and for the first time, comb my fingers through her tousled hair, nearly brought to tears by the soft, silken feel of her golden tresses. "I...I do not have the skill...to do it alone."_

_ "Are you…the poison…will you…"_

_ "No." I assure her, cradling her body in my arms as I lower her down onto the pillow. "I did not drink. I am __**fine**__."_

_ "But you fell." she mumbles as I soak a cloth in water and remove the drying remnants of her nosebleed. "I was…so frightened."_

_ "Hush now." I tuck her hair behind her ear and let my hand linger, realizing that I have needed this, needed touch…needed her. "All is well. Go to sleep."_

_ "Will you hate me…" her voice slurs as exhaustion forces her eyes shut, "…if I dream of you?"_

_ "No." my throat tightens as the stolen memory replays again, fragments of darkness and chaos and evil._

_**I will hate myself…for my inability…to make your dreams real for you.**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Kathyra**

_ Full dark has fallen, and still no word. The mockingbird sings, the faint sounds filtering through the open window and against my ears. A lilting tune, so at odds with the conflict in my spirit and the sorrowful music of my soul. _

_**The mockingbird**__, I smile and taste the bitterness of it, __**for that is what men would call a creature who has the audacity to sing in the night…mocking god, mocking us…mocking our fears. Would you mock me for my fears, Giselle?**_

_ I watch my physician's eyes move restlessly beneath their lids before at last opening. And in that bleary moment before a dream is truly vanquished, I witness a paradise unknown. Her gaze is calm, devoid of the strength that she forces herself to possess, devoid of the burden of worry that she carries under Dorothea's constant scrutiny and thinly veiled attacks. _

_ My breath leaves me in a rush as those eyes turn to mine, and do not change. The dream does not fade, the calm does not vanish. _

_ "Kathyra." she whispers, and her hand reaches out for mine, the softest of touches. _

_ I gasp as I sense the difference in this touch, that her temperature is no longer feverish or freezing, that the last bandage I had wrapped around her hand is free from blood. I press my hand against her forehead to confirm my diagnosis, allowing relief to flood through me as I feel the cool sweat on her brow._

_ Her eyes ensnare me with the power of their dreams, as they reach out on some phantom plane and tangle with my own. I fall further towards her and my hair builds a shield around us. Her lips, chapped and pale, curve upwards into a smile, into the sweetest invitation I have ever been given, for there is innocence, and hope, and peace. _

_ "Kathyra, please." _

_**Make me feel wanted**__, I read beyond the words she speaks, listening to the cadence of my name in her voice, like a prayer, like a plea, like a wish unfulfilled. _

_ And I do want, and my heart thunders in my chest, and my hand trembles as it traces her cheek, my breath catches as her lips part, the mockingbird's song becomes a cry of joy that shakes me to my very bones and…_

_ "…disturbing development, Mother Dorothea." the door bursts open and I flee from Giselle, struggling to control my breathing and mourning the death of Giselle's dreams as a sheen of worry flits over her eyes and what strength she can muster is brought to bear. _

_ Dorothea enters the room, and the woman walking beside her chills the blood in my veins. She is tall and statuesque, cutting an imposing figure in the regalia of a Chantry templar. She rests her hand on the hilt of her sword, and I can smell blood on her. Her hair is the color of gold and ash, and her blue eyes convey tenacity and cunning, a zealot with no room for compromise. _

_ "This is the woman?" she asks, and Dorothea nods, not even sparing a glance in Giselle's direction. Those cold blue eyes turn to me and the power in them is frightening. _

_ "I am Knight-Lieutenant Meredith." she introduces herself. "And it is of great concern to myself and those who work with me how you discovered the lyrium and toxins in the alienage well."_

_ I stand there, mute, falling backwards into the horror of my past, knowing it is the only way to protect myself under this woman's intense scrutiny. _

_ "Answer her, Kathyra." Dorothea demands, crossing her arms before her. _

_ "M…my father was a mage, knight-lieutenant." I took the truth and molded the lie, a skill learned at Leron's hand and fist. "He was…cruel…to me and my sister…angry that neither of us carried enough of his blood for magic. He…he forced us to drink lyrium…to bring out the magic we did not possess…it is how I recognized it, knight-lieutenant, I swear."_

_ "Are you certain, child," Meredith reaches out and curls her finger beneath my chin, lifting my eyes to hers, and the edge of her nail feels like the point of a blade, "that there is no magic in you?"_

_ "Q…quite certain, knight lieutenant." I stammer, half in mimicry, half in earnest. "We were tested by the templars in my village, after they took my father, Maker bless them for it."_

_ "I see." Meredith removes her finger and I bite my lip to control my breathing. "You have saved many lives, my child. We tracked the spellwork to its source. The mage attacked and was summarily…handled." her lips curl into a thin smile, like a lioness sated from a kill. "All of his magic is rendered null and void. I do grieve for the cruelty that life has presented you, but the Maker had his reasons."_

_**Where was your precious Maker when a mage destroyed my soul? **__I questioned as the knight lieutenant turned on her heel and exited the room. __**Where was your "handling" of matters when my memories were stolen from me!?**_

_ "There walks the Maker's truest servant." Dorothea speaks, watching the knight lieutenant walk away. "You have done well, Kathyra, in alerting us to this threat."_

_ "I didn't do it for you." I glare at Dorothea, hating her arrogance, hating her ignorance, despising her pride. "Get out."_

_ "You cannot order me from this room, Kathyra." Dorothea reminds me. _

_ "Get. Out. Now." I hiss. "Or I will remove you by force. You think yourself above the rest of us; that we do not see the shadows dancing in the honeyed words you speak? That your care and concern so thinly veil the malice of your cobwebbed heart? Have you even given one moment of thought to Giselle's condition? Or to the elves that __**would**__ have died, had she not cared enough to give them aid? You disgust me, Dorothea."_

_ The Revered Mother turns on me like a snake, her eyes flashing with what attempts to be righteous fury, but it is simple anger at slighted pride. _

_ "One more outburst like that from you, Kathyra, and I will make your life a living __**hell**__." she threatens, and I all but laugh in her face. _

_ "You could not if you tried." I growl, knowing that she has no knowledge of my past, no matter the palms she has greased or the inquiries made. I am nameless, faceless, voiceless in the waking world. _

_ "Oh, couldn't I?" she smiles, turns her back on me and begins to leave._

_**Maker, what have I done? **_

_ "Kathyra?" Giselle's soft voice pulls me from my terrified thoughts and I turn to her, looking at the woman for whom Dorothea __**could **__make life an abysmal nightmare, if she so chose. "Kathyra, you are white as snow. Sit down, please."_

_ I sit at the edge of the bed, as far away from her as I can be, and still accede to her wishes. I think of the moment shared between us, the kiss that was not, and now…could never be. _

_ "What is it, trickster?" she asks. "Why is there grief in your eyes?"_

_ "Because I have but earned you Dorothea's further ire. In seeking to protect, I have only destroyed." I wonder at the words spilling from my lips, confessions of vulnerability…a gift I have never known, save from Giselle. "You are safe though…save for the blood loss, you will be fine."_

_ "Damn that harpy to the hell she creates." Giselle spits. "Kathyra, look at me." I remain motionless. "Look at me, __**please**__."_

_ I relent, turning my eyes to hers, hating that her strength was there…a strength that I could not be, not without inciting anger…not without hurting her. _

_ "Kathyra, I have never been anything but honest…I know no other way to be. That moment…the moment before Dorothea entered…I want nothing more than to experience that again, without interruption. Do you…do you want the same?"_

_**Yes. With all of my heart. **_

_ "It cannot be, Giselle." I stare at the floor, at the face of my shadow, the black of the void that is my heart and soul. "Inasmuch as it is desired, I am…I am not the one meant for you."_

_ "But you want…" her voice breaks and the bones protecting my heart snap from the force of it. _

_ "Yes." I confess, at last. "I want." _

_ The hope in her eyes is contrasted with the trembling of her lips. Tears gather and stream down her cheeks; I know, for I am weeping as well, grieving what might have been…grieving the mistake that my heart had been preserved from making…no matter my desire to the contrary. _

_ I rise, needing to go back to my own room, to the silence of my mind and the torments in its darkened corners. Needing to remind myself of why her heart and mine could not be melded, not be one. Because I am broken, damaged, the cause of destruction and undeserved wrath. _

_ "Does it always hurt this much, Kathyra?" Giselle asks, and I turn towards her, seeing her unhidden, uncowered, unmoved by my rejection. Her eyes are aglow with determination and light, and it frightens me. "The death of a dream?"_

_**I am not worth fighting for, Giselle…I tried to tell you this when first we met, but you would not believe. Let it now be proven. Let the dream die. **_

_"The pain lessens." I tell her. "Given time."_

_ "I will not believe that." she shakes her head. "And I will not give it time. Time has given me these emotions, allowed me to see that my life is not complete without what all mortals seek. And for me, that is…it is you."_

_ All of the ways I have escaped a similar situation flash though my thoughts. I could sculpt the perfect retort, reach through the cracks in her armor and deal mortal damage to her beautiful soul. It would break the bond she wished to form between us, and I know she is strong enough that forgiveness would be offered…_

_ "If you ask for more words between us, I will only hurt you, Giselle." I give her honesty, I give her truth. "Please rest, let your body heal, and I promise things will seem clearer in the sunlight."_

_ "They are clear, Kathyra." she replies. "But you know me well enough now to understand…I will respect your wishes."_

_ "Do not do so at the cost of your heart." I beg her._

_ "Do not deny your desires at the cost of yours." Giselle wipes the tears from her eyes and reaches out. "Please."_

_**I can't. I am sorry, Giselle…you deserve someone whose strength protects you, not endangers you. You deserve someone who does not know how to lie. You deserve your equal…not your opposite. **_


	24. Chapter 24

**Kathyra**

"This waiting is interminable." Leliana commented as she slid down the wall of the cabin to sit beside Kestrel. "I would know. I walked across Ferelden for the better part of a year and I feel as if this ship is moving more slowly."

"I'd move the stars themselves if it would save them." Kestrel replied, pulling her knees in close to her chest. "They are some of the finest I have ever met. Surely the Maker will honor their lives."

Leliana frowned, and I knew where her thoughts ventured. To her warden, as mine were fixed on my physician. To those we loved, those we held dear, those we wanted near us in this moment.

"We can but trust." Leliana attempted to comfort the young templar, but I could sense the doubt in her beliefs. The same doubt I had known. Doubt of the gods' mercy.

"Leliana, might I ask you a question?" Kestrel asked, and her eyes fixed on Rylie's motionless form. Leliana nodded. "How did you know…about you and your wife? How did you know that you loved her; that she loved you…that you were meant for each other?"

Leliana leaned her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling, reliving memories, revisiting nightmares, reawakening dreams.

"She was impossible not to love." Leliana answered. "From the moment I met her, my world changed. I had lost faith in humanity, faith in the power of the heart and Salem…she disproved every doubt I kept close. Simply being near her…like looking into the countenance of grace personified. And I fought every moment not to love her…losing ground with every attempt. As for how I knew she loved me," she sighed, "Salem never concealed her emotions. Quiet as they were, she did not let them lie."

Kestrel continued to look at Rylie, her eyes sparking with wonder and delight. "I think…I think I understand how you feel."

_Me as well. I know. Oh Maker, how well I know. _Tears pricked the back of my eyes and I could not even lift my hand to wipe them away. They streaked down my cheeks, leaving trails of ice in their wake. Ice that I had tried to build into walls around my heart…walls that were torn away.

* * *

_"Oh this is just awful." Mirien wipes sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of blood. "An out and out massacre…"_

_ I say nothing, focusing on stitching the rather nasty gash across the thigh of a city guardsman. It had been two weeks since the poisoning on the alienage…two weeks for the elves to recuperate and learn that the humans would have been willing to let them die…and a riot had followed. _

_ The Chantry clinic had been overrun by guardsmen and templars bearing wounds from whatever weapons the elves were able to steal or craft. Giselle has been nowhere to be found, but I know where she is._

_**Among her people…who else would care for their wounds? **_

_I finish the stitching and bandage the wound, feeling guilty. I had seen Giselle depart the moment the news arrived with the first of the wounded. Her eyes had held such pain, looking at me as she had since the night we nearly kissed. But I had not gone to her, though I wished to be nowhere else but her side. _

_**She will see**__, I convince myself. __**Eventually, she will see and understand…I have no desire to hurt her, but she has…she has…**_

_ "Kathyra, over here." Mirien calls and I rise to my feet and walk to her, examining her patient. "I need your hands," the normally chatty physician is clipped and her eyes direct me to the guard's gut wound. "Internal bleeding, severed vein requires cauterizing and my hands have been shaking the last candlemark."_

_ I kneel beside the injured guard and take the small bar of iron Mirien hands me, holding it in the candle flame. "I understand." I say, and Mirien's shoulders sag with relief. _

_ "I would have asked Giselle, but she disappeared and you have the steadiest hands of all of us, excepting her. I just…it's so heartbreaking. Look at the soldiers, Kathyra. They're so young…too young to be immersed in this madness."_

_**But what about the elves? Their children must have been fighting as well. Why does no one see the inequality? Why does no one see that such a tragedy could have been completely averted, if we would pull our heads from the sand and realize…we all bleed red? **_

_ The tip of the iron turns red and Mirien places her hand in the wound, soaking up the rapidly spilling blood with a wad of bandaging. I seek out the bleeding vein and place the tip of the iron to it, stopping the flow of blood, thankful that the man is unconscious and cannot feel the immense pain such treatment causes. _

_ "Stitch the wound." I tell Mirien, rising and stretching the knots in my back. _

_ The clinic has gone quiet, many of the soldiers lie sleeping, while physicians and their apprentices speak in hushed, worried tones. My eyes seek out the familiar radiance and comfort of Giselle's golden hair, but she is gone from this place, fighting for those who have no chosen warriors. _

_**With no one beside her**__, I think, and the realization shocks me to the core. __**No one to give credence to her actions, no one to care as she exhausts herself. She is so very alone in this cold, cruel world…more alone than I have ever been and I…I am guilty of doing this to her. No matter what we feel, no matter if it must be denied, **__**no one**____**should ever be alone. **_

_"Where is Sister Giselle?" Dorothea enters the clinic and her eyes fix on me. She closes the distance between us. "The captain of the guard was injured during the riot, and he deserves none but our best, which, unfortunately, is still Giselle."_

_ "She is not here." I answer, clenching my hands into fists. "You know where she is, Dorothea. Let someone else care for the guard captain. What Giselle is doing is far too important."_

_ "She is endangering this clinic." Dorothea hisses, low, keeping our conversation from the ears of others. "And her own life, should the guard believe her an elven sympathizer. We cannot afford altruism, Kathyra, much as we would like to. Measures must be taken for the survival of good deeds."_

_**You would kill Giselle by stifling the light in her soul**__, I glare at Dorothea, and she takes a step back. **And murder others by denying them her services.**_

_"Fling your warnings against other ears." I remove my filthy, blood stained apron and toss it at Dorothea's feet. "I am going to help her."_

_ "You will return her here immediately." Dorothea orders. "Keep in mind, the guard captain is not a patient man."_

_ "Best find another to tend to him then." I lift my satchel from the floor and sling it across my shoulders. "Giselle and I will most likely not return until the morrow."_

_ "Kathyra!" Dorothea snaps. "I warned you once. I will __**not**__ do so again."_

_ I clench the strap of my satchel and walk directly to the revered mother. "I know." I tell her, keeping my voice iron and even, as I have seen Giselle do hundreds of times. "And if you truly wish to devote your energies to making my life a misery, than by all means, attempt the feat. I can guarantee you of your failure, for I have walked with demons, danced with murderers, and laughed in the face of death. Trouble me and see how powerless you truly are; harm Giselle in __**any**__ way and I __**will**__ see you lose that which you hold most dear."_

_ "How could you presume to know what I hold dear?" Dorothea asks. _

_ "Because it is speaking to me in this moment." I smile. "Destroying a reputation is an art, Dorothea, and Giselle too good a woman to draw a line between what she will and will not be forced to endure. I, however, am not."_

_ "I do not understand your defense of her." Dorothea shakes her head. "The woman is recalcitrant and stubborn as a Ferelden mule. Her talents notwithstanding, there is a line that I __**have**__ drawn of the abuse I will take from her kind."_

_ "No one should be alone, Dorothea." I tell her. "But your soul is so blackened that you have convinced yourself that such a life is what you desire."_

_ "You speak as a woman in love." Dorothea's brow raises. "Giselle has taken vows, Kathyra. I hope that in your entire disregard for that which is holy, you will at least remember that she is sworn to the Maker."_

_ "She is sworn to nothing." I growl, stepping even closer, cataloguing the ways I could strike and render Dorothea powerless to walk, powerless to breathe, powerless to harm another mortal being. "But you and your agenda."_

_ "You are fighting for nothing, Kathyra." Dorothea admonishes me as I turn on my heel. "Without this work, this Chantry, this shield, Giselle is nothing."_

_ "No." I counter. "I have fought for nothing, once…this is different."_

_ "Young __**and**__ arrogant. You will learn."_

_ "I know enough." I leave the argument on those words and exit out into the night, speeding through the shadows towards the alienage, towards Giselle, towards a new realization. _

_**We are both alone in this world...turned out of our homes and decried by our people. Yet Giselle is willing to fight, for her place, for her life…I do not want to be another battle she must endure. I will help her, no matter the cost. And I will hope…I will hope for her forgiveness. **_


	25. Chapter 25

**Kathyra**

_The streets are dark and stained with the smell of blood. I walk, careful, knowing that I, by my very nature, have become the enemy of those who dwell here. Over the darkness and the smudge of smoke, I can hear the anguished cries of lovers bereft of those they loved, mothers weeping for their children, elders grieving the impetuous nature of youth. _

_**We are no different**__, I think as I seek Giselle, knowing that she will be in the thick of whatever is happening, be it bloody revolution, or taut and anxious waiting. __**Why can no one see that we are no different? Why is Giselle despised for being of two bloods when both of them are the same? It is only our appearance that marks us, the worship of our gods, the languages we speak, the manner in which we dwell…such trivial, meaningless things. **_

_** So why is one considered better than another? Why is it deemed fit for one race to lord over the others? Did not Andraste march on Tevinter for just such a reason? Why is prejudice allowed to run so rampant, when legends and tales and songs beyond ending were written for one who defied the so-called "natural order"? I do not understand. **_

_ I enter the main courtyard of the alienage, grieving as I witness the one tree in the center of it…engulfed in flames. Smoke hangs thick in the air and the tears on the faces of the elven elders are streaked with the black of soot and ash and grief. _

_**How much death can one people take? **__I wonder as I watch the symbol of what the elves once were slowly wasting away beneath the merciless lick of flames. __**First the 'plague' and now this…Giselle…my heart breaks for you. For you to have to watch, stuck in a place between the light of either world, able to do nothing to change the mind or alter the actions of either…at least…in my shadows…I had power, such as it was. **_

_ I tuck my hair behind my ear, watching as the smoke spirals into the night sky, carrying away the souls of the dead to a place where they are warm, and safe, and no man's slave. At least, I pray that is true. I pray that there is a god of kindness for the elves, one who answers prayers, and does not remain silent in his paradise, heartbroken by the fate of his prophet. Just as I pray that there is a god for the broken, the lonely, the murderer, the liar, the thief…a god who will see fit to right the injustices committed, if the hands that performed the deed are repentant…if they strive to undo the wrongs they have done. _

_ The faintest skitter of sound catches my ear and I am instantly on guard, reaching back as the distinct melody of metal striking through the air announces that all is not well. My fingers close around a thin wrist and I pull my attacker forward, using the momentum of their strike against them, flinging them into a nearby wall. The dull kitchen knife clatters to the cobblestones and I lift my hands as I look at the body of a young elven boy. His grey eyes are dark with hate as he regains his breath and rises to his feet._

_ "What are you doing here, shem!" he yells, fury in his as-yet unmatured voice. "Haven't your people done enough!? Are you here to spill more elven blood!? Are you!? __**ARE YOU!?**__"_

_ "No." I tell him, becoming worried as those who surrounded the tree in sorrow now turn their eyes to me in rage. "Please…I have no desire…I do not want…"_

_ They surround me and the first blow lands before I can deflect it, striking across my face and dizzying me. I drop to my knees as the world spins in front of me, wondering what madness possessed me to come here. _

_**It is against all rational thought…**__I gasp as a decisive kick forces the air from my lungs and I curl into myself in hopes to prevent more damage to my body. __**I only wanted to help…**__the world goes a little darker as the toe of a boot collides with the back of my neck. _

_ I hear metal scraping against stone and I know someone has found the knife. Multiple hands pull me to my knees and a fist strikes my face, one…two…three times. My lip has split, my nose bleeds, and I can taste the blood in my mouth and feel the bruises spreading around my eyes. _

_ A barrage of language assaults my ears, but the manner in which they speak is more eloquent and telling than every word of every tongue. I am to be their vengeance, to burn as what they loved was burned, to be butchered as those they loved were butchered…to continue the cycle of hatred and death between both races. _

_ "Clear the way!" someone shouts, the furor dims, and I open my eyes as the hands that assaulted me hold still. _

_ "What is the meaning of this?" a gravelly voice that I recognize breaks across the crowd. "Our children dying, our homes ransancked, the Vhenadahl burning, and instead of attempting to rebuild, I find you seeking to destroy. Look at me, shemlen."_

_ I turn my eyes to his, recognizing the elder we had spoken too, the one who had named me a friend to him and to his people…the one who knew that he would die. Yet here he stood, alive and well, freed from the plague, only to witness…the travesty and massacre of his people. _

_ "You?" he asks. "You are the healer, are you not? You have come to us before."_

_ "Yes, Elder." I answer, keeping my head low, attempting to show respect, to keep the hands that would murder away from their goal. _

_ "And have you come to harm us, to report back to your Chantry and its templars of our doings? To have them march against us once more, this time unprovoked?"_

_ "No, Elder." I even my breathing. "I came seeking Giselle, to render aid where she might need it. I came…I came to help your people."_

_ "Lies!" the boy I disarmed shouts. "Shemlen lies! She would just as soon…"_

_ "Quiet, young one." the elder rumbles, his voice low and menacing, like thunder at a distance. "I will take you to Giselle. The girl is under my protection." he announces, and the hands holding me immediately relinquish their grip. "If any ills befall us from her presence, may they rest on my shoulders."_

_ Grumbling, dissenting, torn from their opportunity for vengeance, the elves grumble and begin to stalk away, one by one, leaving me and the alienage Elder alone. He offers a weathered hand to aid me, apologizing for his people with a smile full of grief. _

_ "Forgive the young, lady healer." he entreats as I lock my hand with his and rise to my feet, knowing that tomorrow I will be quite badly bruised. "When patience avails nothing, they turn to rage, when rage avails less…they turn to hatred. And it is in hatred that grievous actions are committed."_

_ "I know that rage." I tell him as he leads me towards a flame scorched home. "I understand."_

_ "You did not intend to harm the boy?" the Elder's keen eyes look into mine. _

_ "Not after he was disarmed." I answer, hoping that my words are true, for had he attacked me again…instincts are so very difficult to deny. _

_ "And is the skill of disarming taught to all healers?" the Elder pushes open the door, leading me into a makeshift infirmary where one exhausted, spirit-weary, __**beautiful**__ half-elf stands in the midst of chaos, directing it, channeling it into order and safety and rest. _

_ "I was many things before I was a healer." I reply._

_ My voices catches Giselle's attention and she looks up. Relief immediately flashes across her face, until she sees the blood and the bruising. She rushes across the room and assesses the injuries, her hands ghosting across my skin, sending shivers down my spine…a reaction that has nothing to do with fear. _

_ "Why did you come?" she asks, hands on my shoulders, standing at arm's length, scrutinizing me. "You knew it would be dangerous."_

_**I worried for you. You might have need of me. I am here solely because I have no desire to murder Dorothea in cold blood**__…a litany of replies run through my mind. Instead, I smile, assuring her that I am well, that no harm has been done. _

_ "I wanted to be with you." I answer._

_ Her lips part in a sudden smile, the sun breaking through clouds. Light strikes her eyes and the Elder grins as well, a knowing look on his weathered features. _

_ "Come along, then." Giselle waves for me to follow. "There is much work to be done, and I am in sore need of another set of skilled hands."_

_ I move to follow, but the Elder stays me with a hand on my arm. He looks at me, then towards Giselle, a canny grin in his eyes. _

_ "Those many things you were," he references, "but masks to hide your true face. Ponder that, emm'asha. Ponder that."_


	26. Chapter 26

**Kathyra**

_ "Maker's blood-soaked breath." I whisper. _

_ Giselle's eyes fill with tears as we gaze upon the bodies of the dead, prepared for the pyre by those with greying hair and wrinkled hands…and those whose eyes had not yet been scarred with the cruelties of the world. _

_ One body in particular holds my attention; I stare at it, fixated in a macabre sorrow. A young elf maiden, her face serene, her eyes closed. Her hands, what is left of them, charred and blackened skin with visible bone, have been crossed over her chest, and in them, a tiny twig with a single green leaf. _

_ "Who is she?" I ask Giselle. _

_ "The alienage Elder's youngest daughter." Giselle answers, and her voice is haggard with the stain of smoke and exhaustion. "She attempted to save the __Vhenadahl_ from the flames…to fight for what little of her heritage remained. In the end, it was not the flames that took her, but the smoke that stole her breath."

_ I silence myself, looking once more at the young elf, dead before her time, fighting for something that Giselle could never claim. _

_ "The branch she carries is a symbol." Giselle continues, forcing herself to speak through the grief that so clearly haunts her. "That life will continue, that the People will rebuild and carry on, as ever they have…in the face of great trial, with remembrances of losses and sorrows, taking comfort in the knowledge of new tomorrow."_

_ Touched, I reach out and place my hand on Giselle's shoulder, the slightest of movements, not meant for anything but to comfort her. She turns into the touch, looking so fragile, so child-like and broken in the face of this great sorrow. Without thinking, I pull her towards me and wrap my arms around her, sensing, as only a bard can, the words she cannot bear to speak. _

_**And this is what was meant as our true calling. To speak of the sorrows held in silence, so that the world might learn…not to take the secrets of the mighty and splay them naked before the world. We are the writers of history, those who dwell in the shadows and see equally of darkness and light...for the world has gone deaf, blind, and mute. If not us…who will speak for the lonely heart? **_

_** How did the art change…from one of healing to one of death? **_

_"And yet you will be turned from this gate." I whisper. "Unable to bear anything but their grief…for in their joy they would deny you, no matter that you share their blood, no matter that their lineage continues in you."_

_ Giselle's hands curl to fists as she clutches my shirt. Her shoulders shake with quiet weeping and I tighten my grip, shoring her up, holding her against the onslaught of the truth she acknowledges with her tears. _

_**Too high a price to pay**__, I watch the glittering diamonds slide down her cheek. _

_ The sun peers over the horizon of Val Royeaux, a symbol of equal hope and damnation. Hope for the elves, who will remember this moment in the light of day, gather solace from their families, grieve their losses, take comfort in their symbols. But the one I hold dearest to me, the one whose tears are shed for all men of all races…will have nowhere to turn. No home to go to, no family to take her in their arms and help her to stand against the blinding light of a new dawn. _

_ "Come with me." I whisper._

_ Giselle looks up, confusion in her red-rimmed eyes. "Wha…where?"_

_ "Away from death. Away from duty. For one day, Giselle. You have striven so hard, for so long, and none have thought to offer you a moment of rest."_

_ "Because there is no escape, Kathyra." she dries her eyes and looks to the pyre rising in the center of the alienage, where the dead will be mourned and sent to the Creators. The sound of axes rings out through the morning as the charred and blackened Tree of the People is cut down…so that they can rebuild. _

_ "No escape, perhaps. But respite can be found." I assure her, finding that the words I speak are strange. I am a foreigner to hope, an alien to comfort…but that is all I wish to offer her in this moment. _

_**To carry your burdens, beautiful girl. For a blink, a candlemark, a day. Just for a day, let me take your suffering…let me ease your loneliness. **_

_"Show me." her words are not an order but a plea._

_ I take her hand in mine and we walk from the alienage, unseen and unmissed by those who dwell there…those who will only accept her as one of them when in need. I lead Giselle through the secret streets of Val Royeaux, those so often untraveled and unknown, silent as suited both of our needs. _

_ Soon, the noise of the sea greets my ears as we emerge beyond the walls of the city. We walk through the sand, letting the water lap at our feet, easing the aches and pains of strained hours attempting to save lives. At last, we come to the place I have sought, a cove of rocks, worn smooth from the constant lashing of the sea. _

_ I climb the rocks and aid Giselle, smiling in spite of the split in my lip, wondering at the lightness of my heart in this moment. The day and night had been spent in courtship with death, hand in hand with sorrow, the echoes of grief so terrible there were no words in any tongue to describe them aptly. _

_ We reach the top of the cove and I lead her to the single tree that stands atop a hill of lush grass, overlooking the power and majesty of the sea. Giselle stops and catches her breath, her lips parting in awe, her eyes sparking with delight. _

_ "It has…it has been so long since I have been out of the city." she whispers. _

_ I look back to the bright and shining city that is Val Royeaux, the Divine's tower cutting into the skyline like a slap in the Maker's face. "Why?" I ask. _

_ "There is…great need within those walls." Giselle replies, but her eyes are fixed on the sea, on the wide open world that could have been hers…were she not of mixed blood. "It is my calling, and I cannot stray."_

_ "Be that as it may," I stand behind her and follow the line of her eyes to that most distant and beautiful of horizons, "I __**want**__ you here, with me, in this moment. This is…this is where I came, so often, when I needed my freedom from him; when I could dream a life away from this city and the nightmares it holds for me. But I would return…I would return for Marjolaine, for once he took us under his roof she would no longer journey here with me. And now that city...my prison...holds no darkness for her. She has become its shadows, its lies, its infidelities…she has crafted a web of jewels and silks…immune to primal beauty any longer."_

_ "This…" Giselle turns her gaze from the sea and I feel my breath catch at the radiance of her eyes, "…this is your place of comfort, of solace…and you...you trust me enough to bring me here?"_

_ "Yes." I lean against the trunk of the tree, feeling grounded as the bark presses through my shirt and against my back, solid, warming, secure. _

_**Secure as I am in her presence. Solid as I feel when she seeks my eyes. Warming…the way I flush when her skin meets mine. Yes, Giselle…I have brought you here for deeper reasons than even I comprehended…and as I can read you, so you understand me. **_

_ "Will you also allow me in your fears?" Giselle asks, and I know the question should terrify me, but here I feel only peace. "Am I welcome in the dark places in your mind, Kathyra?"_

_ "And if I allow you there?" I ask, still hesitant, but willing, willing for the first time to consider it. _

_**Will you revile me? Will you leave, so shattered by the evil left to lie inside my heart?**_

_ "I would…" her hand reaches up and brushes the slight abrasion across my cheek, "…I would…I would not run, Kathyra. I knew the moment you shrank from my touch…that I wanted...and still want...nothing more…than to leave you with sweeter dreaming. Let me in...please…let me in."_

_ I look to the sea, seeking an answer, not the answer I have given myself in the past, not the answer that my fear forges into immutable truth. _

_**Let go**__, the waves crash against the rocks and the salt spray kisses my cheek with a stinging bliss. I inhale deep of the crisp, clean air, letting the world fall away, leaving but me and Giselle in a crystalline, glorious moment of freedom. _

_ And in answer, I say nothing. I reach up, breaking a tiny twig with a single leaf off of the tree…and pressing it into her hands. _


	27. Chapter 27

**Kathyra**

_ Giselle cradles the twig in her hands, as though it is glass, fragile and breakable and beautiful and hard-won. It is a symbol of the elves, of the People…of who she would be, if given the chance. It is also a symbol of my heart, that which was blackened and charred as the Vhenadahl in the alienage. _

_**You gave me a new life. You took that which was broken, and gave it structure. You took that which was damaged, and gave it purpose. You took that which was lonely…and remained beside it. **_

_ "I know what this means…to me." she whispers, and even over the roaring of the sea her voice carries. "Will you tell me what it means to you, Kathyra?"_

_ It is a test, and a kind one. She is asking for my words, for a defined statement of this symbol, which she gave me when I asked. I owe her no less…and want to give nothing less. _

_ "Hope." I breathe, the word tasting sweet on my lips. "And peace. And promise. And prayer. I am…" __**those many things you were…but masks to hide your true face. **__"…I am willing, Giselle. But still damaged, still locked between the life before and the life you have given me and I…I do not wish to use you, as I used others."_

_ "Tell me what you mean." her voice is strong, but unafraid, and unashamed, and gentle, gentle like the slightest blow to the back of the leg—able to bring one to their knees and cause no pain. _

_ "I…I once used the illusion of love in order to gain things. Secrets. Possessions. Tools. I can manipulate with a whisper in the right moment, I can take a life with a kiss…I am terrified of myself, Giselle. It is only…it is only in your eyes that I see my reflection and am not haunted by it."_

_ There are tears in my eyes now, tears as I confess the fears that have haunted me for years, unable to be visited, considered, or mourned, due to the constant threat to my life and Marjolaine's. _

_ "What do you see in my eyes, trickster?" the moniker is warm, like a welcome embrace in the dark, a roaring fire on a winter's night. _

_ My lips tremble as I reach out and stroke her cheek, a faint whisper of skin on skin, a timid plea from a sinner's lips. _

_ "All that I desire to be." I answer, feeling a warmth spread through me. Relief as I admit my flaws and failures, strength as I admit my weaknesses. "Compassionate. Fierce. Loving."_

_ "Lonely?" Giselle asks, searching my eyes for her own answers, her own reflection, wondering who I see when I look at her. _

_ I gaze beyond her to the sea, amazed as I realize that it is Giselle's very soul. Wide, expansive, willing to embrace any and all who came to her, to give life. Endless time stretches back to the horizon, time given to heal, time given as a gift…but so alone. Traveled upon, taken from, but left when the journey is ended. Abandoned when the way has been found. Forgotten when the goal has been reached. _

_**Lonely sea, lonely heart, and it thrashes against the shore, never able to reach those who once loved it…who once used it and gave nothing back. Who called it home until a new horizon caught their eyes. **_

_ "There is a song for the lonely heart, Giselle." I tell her, emboldened by her trust, by her seeking of my heart, her desires for my fears. Brave enough to terrify myself. _

_ "Will you sing it for me?" the query is tentative, fearful…_

_**…afraid of dropping the wall she constructs against loneliness…as afraid as I am, but desperate. Desperate to cease thrashing against the shore and at last have something deeper than a calling to cling to. Desperate for someone to stay…**_

_ I reach out and take her hand, pulling her towards me. The distance between us is closer than we have ever been, aside from the times we have healed each other. _

_**In more than just body. You are healing my soul, Giselle. You have made me believe again, in your loneliness, in your tragedies, as you struggle through them…you are my guiding constellation, and where you are is home to me. **_

_ "Kathyra, what…"_

_ "Do you trust me?" I breathe, cradling her cheek with a trembling hand, needing her belief, because she does not have the strength to be broken again…and I do not have the will to deny my screaming, pounding heart. _

_ "With more than my life."_

_ "Then let me sing."_

_ I lower my forehead and press it against hers, looking into her eyes, filled with longing and need and dreams so long denied for fear of them breaking. She smells of smoke and blood and herbs, and the wind blows her hair against me. Her hand reaches up and wraps around my wrist, pressing my skin further against hers, waiting for a melody I have never before let ring. _

_ My entire body trembles as I press my lips against hers, relieved by the pulse of pain, for it assures me that I am alive, and not dreaming. I have kissed before, but always it led down a darker path. Here, in my place of security and comfort, nothing can assail me, no nightmares can raise their voice, no memories can dissuade. Nothing can tarnish this gift. _

_ The softest, sweetest sigh echoes against my lips and Giselle moves closer. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight to me as I shore myself up against the tree. I keep the kiss light and gentle, delicate and full of promise, knowing that deepening it now will pull me backwards into shadows, away from the only place I desire to be. _

_ Giselle's lips move against my own, hesitant, unskilled, but with unbridled passion, unmitigated emotion. Her lips taste of freedom, like lemon and honey, cleansing and sweet. After what seems an eternity, I break the kiss and lean against the tree, holding her in my arms as she shivers. _

_ I stroke my hand through hair the color of sunlight, tucking it behind her pointed ears, smiling as she blushes a deep crimson and shyly lowers her eyelids. _

_ "What manner of song was that, Kathyra?" she whispers, resting her head against my chest, clinging to me, letting me heal myself with her touch. _

_ "Bards have a saying…one that I never understood until now." I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Sometimes…the sweetest song is silence."_

_ She lifts her head and looks at me, the bruises and cuts I earned by needing, __**wanting **__to be at her side. Her lithe, dainty fingers reach out and thread through my own. With her other hand she takes the twig, tucking it into her shirt, against her heart. _

_ "Then know that no matter the place, no matter the moment, no matter the cost…" tears fill her eyes and spill over, staining her flushed cheeks with their diamond glitter, "…I shall always be singing…and only for you."_


	28. Chapter 28

**Kathyra**

"It was…it was a perfect day." I awoke to the sound of Kestrel's quiet voice, her accent almost undetectable. "The sun in a cloudless sky, the music of swords clashing together. And there I was, frightened and alone and weak and all of a sudden, from the corner of my eye, I saw her." the templar private smiles at what is obviously the recollection of a memory. "I'd never seen someone so vibrant, so focused on the art of living that the art of survival played second string…does that even make sense?"

Leliana's soft laughter echoed through the cabin and I found my heart lifted by the sound of it.

_Maker, her laugh is beautiful. It captures her entire spirit and writes it into a song…why? Why now, at the end of life, at the end of time…do I awaken to confusion and pain? Have I not earned my rest…have I not given enough…was a life denied and deprived not worth an early respite? My heart…my heart does not want to feel again. _

"It does indeed." Leliana answered. "Though I do not know what would possess one like that to become a warrior."

"Forgive me, Leliana." Kestrel sighed and her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. as she heard more in Leliana's words than the woman herself spoke. "I did not mean to take you back into unpleasant memories."

"Only in experience were they unpleasant." Leliana recalled. "In my vision, the warden was terrifying. Swords soaked with gore, a sheen in her eyes that I did not understand. And when I first set eyes on Salem, she was covered in blood and dirt, her armor was ragged and in need of mending. I feared her, but somehow…I knew her, and knew that she had need of me. But later…I found what you see in Rylie. That vibrant light, the confidence and compassion of a woman who _knew_ who she was, _knew_ how she wanted to live and would let nothing, not even a Blight, dissuade her."

"Leaving you hopelessly captivated, unable to think of anything but what it would be like to be loved by such a force, touched by such a hand?" Kestrel asked, revealing her heart as she inquired of Leliana's.

"Similar…different." Leliana mused. "Love has many different faces, and some minds might think them masks, but I am inclined to believe that all of them are love. Once, in love, by love, I _was_ held captive, and Salem…at first, I looked for and anticipated the shackles that would tie our hearts together and they…they never came."

"Did you miss them?"

"I thought I did…for once, I thought them necessary. And then, in a time of loss, a time of fear, when I was too weak to continue, Salem let me go. She gave me the one gift I had never been given..."

"Time." Kestrel realized. "When she had none, still she gave it to you…I could only hope to be so kind."

"You remind me of her." Leliana said, and I could see the templar private veritably glow from the words. "The ridiculous calm that is not stoicism, not bravado…but simple peace."

_Is that what you seek, Leliana? _I wondered. _A heart at peace? Would you ask that of any that you love…or just from your warden?_

"Perhaps it is not peace but resignation." Kestrel theorized, perhaps frightened at being held alongside the vaunted figure of Salem Cousland, slayer of gods.

"There is a peace that can be found in knowing who you are…it is something I did not experience for many years." Leliana's tone held hesitation, as though she felt ill at ease, for the first time perhaps finding herself older and wiser than another. "It is something I do not believe Salem ever struggled with."

_I did…_I remembered the moment when all was well within my world…and the moment that it shattered.

* * *

_The journey back to the city holds no pain for me…this is the first time that I can remember it being so. But this time, in leaving my place of solace and comfort, I am taking a part of it with me, a part of it that beats in another's heart; that she holds in her hands and keeps safe for me. _

_ There is fear in my heart, but it is kept at bay with every pulse of blood flowing through my veins, with the calm assurance of Giselle's hand in mine. I feel secure, and for the first time…worthy. Worthy of the trust that this woman with no home and no country has placed in me. _

_ "Your eyes are dancing, trickster." Giselle speaks, a gentle note of teasing in her voice. _

_ "I once loved to dance." the walls of Val Royeaux come ever nearer, and I feel as though I can see through them, into the ornate marble halls where I danced to seduce, danced to enrage, danced to deceive. _

_ "I never learned." sorrow now, sorrow for things lost, but never mourned. Not until now. _

_**Could it be?**__ I ask myself. __**Could it be that I am able to give you…good things? That what has been destroyed for me can be new in your eyes…and could I see it as new once more, and re-learn the definition of joy? Dare I even harbor that hope?**_

_ "If you so desire," my mouth goes dry, with anticipation, with hope, with dreaming, "I can teach you."_

_ "Would you?" her eyes light. "I…I do not even know where to begin, Kathyra. I am adrift and delirious and happy and...and so very **frightened. **I want so much to give, but I am so uncertain of what, or how, or when. You were…you were the first who ever wanted…anything from __**me**__."_

_ "What about Cyril?" I ask, finding the revelation strange. In the confines of the clinic, Giselle is constantly sought after for her knowledge, and beyond that, her innate skill with healing. _

_ Giselle rolls her eyes, endearing her to me yet further. "That pretentious brat. He wanted nothing more than to be apprenticed to the __**most**__ skilled, the __**most**__ experienced…unfortunately for him, that happened to be me. He only wanted that bit of prestige…and then you asked…you struck down the son of a duke and you asked."_

_ "I asked for selfish reasons, Giselle." the truth pours out of me and it is new and empowering. "You…you should not thank me for that."_

_ "But I do." Giselle sets her lips in a stubborn line. "You saved me from Cyril. You saved me from Dorothea's scheming. And now…now you have saved me from myself, from a life of dreams unrealized. Kathyra, I…I did not lie when I told you that I had never known a lover's touch."_

_ "I know." we stand in the doorway of the Chantry, in the most beautiful city in all of Thedas, but all that grandeur is dimmed as I gaze at Giselle…all of the opulence pales in comparison. _

_ "You __**don't**__." she stresses. "Yours was…the first kiss I have ever known."_

_**What? **__the revelation stuns me. __**You would give **__**me**__** something so pure? You would entrust me with…with a memory that will **__**never**__** fade?**_

_I open my lips to speak when the door to the Chantry swings wide, revealing the wrathful countenance of Dorothea and four of the city guard. _

_ "There they are." Dorothea speaks. "I cannot account for their whereabouts, sers, but I do believe them to have provoked and aided the riot in the alienage."_

_ "And you are willing to rescind the Chantry's protection?" the guard sergeant asks. _

_ "I am." Dorothea forces false regret into her eyes as she looks at Gislle. "Forgive me, sister. It is but for a short time, so that you will learn where your loyalties must lie. As for you, Kathyra," Dorothea's lips curve into a sinister smile, "you were __**warned**__."_

_ A guardsman lays his hand on Giselle's shoulder and white hot fury shreds through me. I reach into my belt and pull the weapon I have never ceased to carry. Rough, strong arms grasp me about the waist and a flash of metal speeds through the air…a sword hilt strikes me across the temple. Blood pours into my eye and the world goes dark at the edges as my knees give way. _

_ Giselle's terrified features fill my vision as the hilt crashes down once again, leaving my ears ringing with but one sound…_

_ "**Kathyra!**" Giselle's voice…screaming my name. _


	29. Chapter 29

**Kathyra**

_ Awareness comes slowly. First, the stench, molded straw, blood, the rank odor of unwashed bodies. Second, sound, the monotone drip of water against stone, whispers in the dark, carried on frightened voices, the skittering footfalls of rats. Third, feeling, the pounding ache in my skull, the cold of the stone beneath me, and warmth…warmth from the long, slender fingers threading through my hair, the soft cushion my throbbing head rests on. _

_ "Please, open your eyes." Giselle whispers, her voice faraway and pleading. "Kathyra, I'm afraid."_

_ Those words rouse me fully and I open my eyes, feeling sick as the world spins and twists in front of my vision. But I can suffer through this, if only to __**never**__ hear those words from between her lips again. _

_ "Giselle, what…" I attempt to sit up and feel as though a knife has been driven into my eyes. I gasp and bite back a cry, unwilling to draw any attention to us, no matter where we are. _

_ Then her hands are on me, around my shoulders, guiding my head down to rest on her lap. "Hush," she whispers as I attempt to breathe through the onslaught. "It's all right. I'm here. Lie still, Kathyra, please don't move."_

_ "What…happened?" I ask through gritted teeth, trying to find solace in her touch, in her presence, but I can also sense her fear. _

_ "I do not…I do not rightly know." Giselle shakes her head and the motion dizzies me. "Dorothea turned us over to the city guard…we're in a cell."_

_ "Have you been hurt?" I ask the question closest to my heart. _

_**How did this happen? From a perfect moment spent to utter chaos and this damnable headache!? Dorothea, I swear by all that is unholy, I will **__**make**__** you regret this!**_

_ "No." Giselle assures me, combing her fingers through my hair once more. "I'm unharmed, but…you have been unconscious for half a day, and you've quite the nasty gash near your temple. I…I cannot even see clearly enough to assess your injuries properly."_

_ "I've had worse." I steel myself, close my eyes, and force my body to rise into a hunched, gasping, sitting position. _

_ Giselle steadies me as I sway. She holds me close and whispers against my ears. "Do not tell me that." she begs. "I hate this, Kathyra. I hate seeing you in pain and being able to do nothing about it."_

_**How can you remain so calm, so unconcerned for yourself? We are in a prison cell! The revered mother of the Chantry **__**betrayed**__** you! An enemy like that and you are worrying over me!? **_

_ "I am more concerned for you at the moment." I tell her, tugging my hair behind my ear and wincing at the texture and stickiness of blood that clings to it. _

_ "Dorothea said this is temporary." Giselle retains her composure. "That bitch cannot touch me and she knows such a thing full well. My father may be dead but my half-brother holds his title…we were raised together. He holds the ear of those far more powerful than Dorothea, and as children we were close."_

_ I can hear the shivering in her words, the silent prayers that echo in the silence; that what she tells me still rings true. And for her sake, I can allow her the illusion of belief, but I have been taught differently. Blood can and will betray blood…for the simplest of reasons. Bonds forged in childhood, trials endured, pale and fade away into what is expected, or what is desired…in Val Royeaux, gold is thicker than blood. _

_ "She rescinded the Chantry's protection of you." I attempt to persuade her to feel fear in this situation…the guards of this city are corrupt. I have bribed them with gold, with illicit pleasures, with flesh. They are more than willing to turn a blind eye. _

_ "A simple tactic meant to inspire fear. I will not give into her game, Kathyra, whatever it may be." _

_ "These games can get you killed, Giselle." I reach for her in the darkness and feel comforted when her hand touches mine. _

_ "Says the woman who pulled a knife on four of the city guardsmen." Giselle speaks, and there is heat in her tone. Her fingers gingerly graze the gash in my skin. "What possessed you to do that, trickster?"_

_ I hang my head, almost ashamed, wondering if she will forgive me. "They laid hands on you…" my voice trails off as the defense feels too weak._

_ "You risked your life to protect me?" she asks, a note of reverence in her voice that I do not understand._

_ "Yes."_

_ Silence reigns for a moment, and in the quiet, I can hear a new sound…the soft, muted notes of sorrow. I reach out with a trembling hand, seeking Giselle, grazing her cheek, feeling the tears that spill from her eyes and wiping them away. _

_ "You beautiful fool." Giselle breathes. "This game with Dorothea has become dangerous…but I have never had anything to lose. But if she knows anything of you…if these guards realize who you were…"_

_**Were, she says. Not are…**_

_ "I will __**not**__ let that happen." I promise. "And I will see you free from this place, if it is the last thing I do."_

_ "You are in no condition to do anything." she says, stern with an undertone of worry. "Head injuries are nothing to be flippant with, Kathyra. Serious damage might have been done."_

_ "I am…"_

_ "Staying here." a cold, austere voice echoes across the stone floors. The flicker of torchlight pervades the cell and I close my eyes as the pain in my head grows worse and nausea takes hold. _

_**But I would know that voice anywhere…what do you want, Dorothea?**_

_"I have been given an epiphany, Sister Giselle." Dorothea states. "And I am afraid that I have fallen short in the Maker's sight. It does me no good to attempt to instruct you in the ways of righteousness at the point of a sword. So, instead, I am afraid the lesson you must learn is a harsher one. A physician who abandons her duty must watch those she cares for suffer for her absence."_

_ "You cannot do this." Giselle rises to her feet, reading the revered mother's intentions before I can make sense of them. "Kathyra is hurt, perhaps badly. I will not go with you…let me suffer as you originally intended."_

_ "Dear girl, you have no choice." I open my eyes in time to see Dorothea smile, an expression that convinces me this was her plan from the outset. "Guards, this woman is under the protection of the Chantry. Arrangements have been made, please release her into my custody."_

_ "Dorothea, no!" Giselle shouts, dropping to her knees beside me. "I will not do this! I __**refuse**__!"_

_ "You should have foreseen this moment in all the other times you have 'refused' my orders." Dorothea hisses and I hear the harsh squeal of a key in a lock and rusted hinges grating open. _

_ "Go." I whisper, desperate to see her free from this place, even if she must go back to a den of venomous snakes. "Please go."_

_ "Kathyra, I will __**not**__." she speaks in a breathy hiss, so low I can barely hear her. _

_ "Keep safe, and I will join you soon. I promise." __**better that you not see this side of me. Better that you keep to your illusions of what I was…what I can still be, should the need present itself. **_

_ "But you're…you're hurt." she protests. "You cannot ask this of me."_

_ "__**Sister Giselle**__." Dorothea's iron tones. _

_ "Be safe." I take advantage of the shadows and squeeze her hand. "I'm fine."_

_ "Do not make my first kiss my last, Kathyra." Giselle begs. "Please."_

_ "Go." _

_ "What of the other woman, Revered Mother?" the guard asks as Giselle steps out of the cell and into the clutches of a heartless bitch. _

_ "Her?" Dorothea pretends to scrutinize me. "I have never seen this woman before, ser guard. But do make certain that the punishment suits the crime…for I am certain many have been committed."_

_ "As you wish, revered mother."_

_ I lay back against the cold stone, too weak to remain sitting any longer, waiting for the world to stop spinning. For when it did…there would be hell to pay. _


	30. Chapter 30

**Kathyra**

_ I lay on the dungeon floor, drifting in and out of consciousness. In my moments of lucidity, I focus on the chink in the mortar of the brick, the only place through which I can see the light of day as it slowly dims, then fades away completely. _

_ I grit my teeth and force myself into a sitting position. The world tilts in front of my eyes, but it is not near as violent as when I first woke. I wait for the initial nausea and dizziness to subside, sinking into a place that I had wanted to leave long forgotten. The place where fire was forced to dwell, the place where I could forget everything and drive myself beyond the limits of body and mind in order to succeed. _

_**At one time**__, I reach inside my boot, feeling the pouch concealed within it, the slender metal shanks of lockpicks, __**only my devotion to Marjolaine would drive me to this level of insanity. How is it that the flame I wished to quench burns all the hotter in this moment, for another whose meaning to me I have so avoided considering? **_

_ My uncoordinated fingers at last free the lockpicks and I stagger to my feet, stumbling toward the door. I press my head to the cool metal of the bars and breathe in labored inhales. _

_**It will not be long**__, I force myself to recognize the fear my knowledge imparts. __**The dungeons come alive when the sun sets…when no eyes and ears who might be persuaded to care will be watching, listening. When those who have found themselves here learn the true meaning of torment. **_

_ I set my picks into the lock and begin my work with trembling fingers. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I feel the tumblers of the lock catch and fall back into place, time and time again. I curse under my breath as sweat drips into my eyes and begins to burn. My hands continue shaking as the floor warps and the bars twist. I close my eyes and attempt to pick the lock by feel. _

_ At last, the tumblers catch and turn over. The echo of the grate of rusty hinges makes me wince as the door swings wide. I stumble through it and leverage myself against the wall for support, despising the slickness of the stone beneath my fingers, and all that it represents. _

_**I am tired of prisons. I have been here too often, in my mind, in my heart, in my very soul. It is from the depths of my torment that I have created this hell, only to find myself thrust into a tangible dungeon. And the reason I struggle in the physical is the same reason I fight every other instinct I possess. To some day…some how…prove worthy of Giselle. **_

_ Twin torches flicker in front of me, the flashing light nearly unbearable to look upon, even though they illuminate the staircase that will lead me to freedom. I back against the wall as the sound of raucous laughter echoes down the stairwell, accompanied by the tromping of boots and the faint jangling of chainmail jerkins. _

_ I lean against the wall, gathering my composure, battling my inner nature as my hand strays to the belt that no longer holds a weapon. _

_ "I am not a killer." I whisper to myself, listening as the voices draw nearer. "Maker, save me, I do not want to…"_

_ "What in hell?" the guard's voice is rough and shocked as he stares at me. The shock turns to a leering smile as he turns to his three companions. "Looks like it got out."_

_ A middle aged guard strokes the edges of his salt and pepper goat's beard. "No chance of it getting loose." he bares his teeth and their sharpness reminds me of Leron. "Look at all that blood. What say we have fun with it?"_

_**It…**__the word rings harsh in my ears as I attempt to flee, stumble; feel powerful arms force me to my knees. The guards gather around me, lewd gestures and words blurring to a nightmarescape. I cringe as the hands above me loosen a belt. Memories crash over me of the nights spent in the drunken company of Leron's contacts and friends…how he would laugh, then promise to take away my pain…forcing his way into my mind and through my defenses, stealing what was not his to take…pulling at the edges of a wound. _

_**No**__. I lift my eyes and stare into the guard's sadistic grin. __**Not again. Not. **__**Ever**__**. Again. I have known kindness. I have seen strength. No one will force me to my knees against my will!**_

_ Feeling strength course through me, I reach up towards the guard's belt and his cheeks flush with whiskey and lust. Faster than thought, I liberate his knife from its sheath and ram it into his groin, slicing across the major artery in his leg. Bright red blood spurts from the wound as I pull the knife and his scream echoes through the hall as he falls, unable to stand, and, in mere moments, unable to breathe. _

_ The sound of swords drawn is a symphony to me as I rise on steady legs and strike out at another would be jailer. The blade rips across his throat with no resistance and barely a whisper of sound. He clutches the wound and staggers against the bars of another cell, his head making a sickening crunch as he falls to the stone floor. _

_ Fire erupts down my body as the tip of a sword catches at my side and cuts a deep furrow along my hipbone and into my thigh. I twist away from my opponent's blade, ducking under a strike from the second standing guard. A stranger's blood streaks down my face as I push my dagger through his chainmail and into his chest. A long studied flick of my wrist twists the blade and as I remove the dagger, I hear it grate against bone. _

_ I stumble in time for the sword of the last standing guardsman to crash into the wall of the stone. Sparks catch and die as I extend my leg and spin, catching the back of his knees and sending him to the floor. He attempts to rise as I throw the dagger, embedding the point of the weapon between his eyes. The dull brown orbs roll backwards into his skull and I get to my feet, gasping, shivering, bleeding. _

_ I limp to the guard and jerk the dagger from his skull, staring at my crimson stained hands. __**This…**__bile rises in my throat and my gut clenches into a knot of agony, __**…this is not simply what I am…but it is my very identity. I can be nothing else. **_

_ Sick and disheartened, I make my way up the stairs, keeping to my home in the shadows, driving myself forward though I no longer know why. Dorothea had been correct when she told the guard that I was guilty of many crimes. She had been right…and Giselle is far safer in the Chantry than she is at my side…or with me at hers. I have only pushed Dorothea towards more drastic measures in her treatment of the half-elven physician. _

_ A guard sits at his desk, slumped over it in a drunken stupor. Even the sound of my labored breathing and the uneven scuffling of my gait does not rouse him from his slumber. I slip into the night as the shadows blend into the silhouettes of the men and women whose names have been carved into my soul by death's merciless hand. The ghosts and demons walk beside me as I flee from the dungeons, slowing as loss of blood takes hold and my head begins to scream with pain. _

_ I stagger from building to building, falling into the muck and filth of the city streets more times than I care to number. _

_**Damn this city to hell!**__ my thoughts scream as I lever myself to my feet once again. __**Can none see the truth of this city? In the day, it can pretend…but when night falls, the dirt and the shadows come to make their home, to retake what was always theirs…I am this city. I am the heart of Val Royeaux. Ugly. Reprehensible. Damned. **_

_ And yet, beyond the dearth of my thoughts, above the din of my screaming heart…there is one memory screaming louder. Not one of tragedy, but of beauty. Not of lies, but of trust. _

_**Do not make my first kiss my last, Kathyra. Please. **_

_ I move forward, knowing that this will be the ultimate trial…Giselle will see irrefutable evidence before her eyes. Evidence that we do not belong together…and we are from separate worlds and that no matter my intentions, no matter my desires, I can never enter hers…that she deserves better than a broken, blood-stained bard. _

_**This is the test…my worth will be judged…I can only pray that mercy exists, all the while knowing…that it most assuredly does not. **_


	31. Chapter 31

**Kathyra**

_ The door of the Chantry stands before me, ominous, looming. I stare down at myself, my ragged, muddied clothing covered in the blood of the four lives I have taken…and my own. _

_**What am I thinking? **__I chastise myself, drowning out the sentimental part of me that desires to rush through the doors, up the well-worn steps and into Giselle's care and concern. __**If Dorothea gets wind of the escape, and she most certainly will, then I will only endanger Giselle. I cannot be so selfish as to jeopardize her future. **_

_I turn from the door, thinking of my physician. The way her hair catches in the light, how her eyes are luminescent even in the darkness. The strength in her words and the way she speaks above the din of the outside world. Her hands, small and delicate, yet able to mend tears in the skin, her lips, soft and supple…able to heal the broken heart. _

_**I want that**__, my thoughts speak with more ferocity than ever they have. __**I have **__**nothing**__**! And she has been given the same! Maker, surely…surely in your twisted grace you can see it fit that we not be alone…that your purest daughter and your defiled prodigal can manage to carve a semblance of living from this city of death.**_

_I stumble forward, into the warm halo of light around the door. I slip inside, knowing that it will be dimly lit and all but deserted at this hour of night. I skirt the doors of the clinic as the ear-numbing strains of what Mirien calls singing drift into the main hall. _

_ I trudge up the stairs, ignoring my throbbing head and the lines of fire radiating down my leg. I trace the hallway to the familiar door, praying that I will find the one I seek behind it. _

_**And she will see me as I truly am…she will see me in all of my desolation and lack of worth. **_

_ I knock at the door and wait for it to open. No sound catches my ear, no voice as light as air, gentle as summer rain, strong as forged steel. _

_ I knock again, unwilling to intrude, unwilling to force her to see this. I know it is foolish, but I will not face her without her permission. _

_ "What in hell!?" I hear a muffled exclamation. "Mirien I will flay you alive if you have come to ask one further insipid question!"_

_ I smile and my eyes tear at the heat in her words. I feared anger, feared its effect, its resonance…but somehow Giselle's temper is warming, a fire that draws me towards it, unable to look anywhere else. _

_ The door swings open and Giselle stares at me, her expression changing from wrath to shock to horror to fear. I loathe myself as I see her viridian eyes lock wide as she takes me in. I gather my strength to turn away, so that she need not look at me, not see the blood-spattered mess of a murderer. But then, soft and slow, the fear in her eyes melts away to concern. _

_ "Kathyra, come inside before you're seen." her voice is low, but insistent, and I limp into her room, closing the door behind me. _

_ "This is…" honest words tear out of my throat and I begin shaking, "…this is who I am, Giselle. I can but pretend at anything else, but this…this is what I know. The blood is not mine."_

_ Her brow creases. "Come and sit down." she orders, in the voice of the physician. "You look like seven shades of hell."_

_ I stagger to the chair before her desk, unaided, and slump into it, letting spirals of black swirl before my eyes. Giselle emerges from the washroom carrying a bowl of water and several cloths draped over her forearm. She kneels in front of me and stares into my eyes. _

_ "Your injured state is the sole reason I have not struck you across the face, Kathyra." she hisses, taking my hand and beginning to clean the blood from it. _

_ "What?" I ask, stunned, pulling my hand away so that my sin will not stain her. _

_ "Why are you so blinded?" she asks, placing her hand on my knee, keeping her gaze fixed on mine. "Do you think I do not know who you are, that somehow I was raised blind and deaf to the world? My father was an Orlesian noble, Kathyra…he __**employed**__ those of bardic talent. I witnessed them, covered in blood and smiling with triumph, taking their gold and silver from my father's hands."_

_ "Then why…"_

_ "Because of the absolute terror-stricken expression stamped on your face." Giselle takes my hand again, determined to erase the blood that has always been there, that will always remain. "This is what you are…Andraste's ass, Kathyra, are you truly so ridiculously dense? Would any bard do what you have done for me? They are selfish creatures, without conscience, without compass, and…"_

_ Her words break my heart and I rise from the chair, pushing away her hand and starting for the door. "If you think that of my kind then I have no place here." I hiss, determined to leave this place and return to my shadows. _

_**There will be no words there for me…nothing but blood and hatred, but it will be better than being in her presence, hearing her speak those words. **_

_"Kathyra!" Giselle calls, and it has always swayed me before, but not this time. _

_ It is her hand that stays me, catching along my injured hip and turning me by force. I hiss as her fingers gouge into the wound and the world goes white for a moment. _

_ "Creators." Giselle gasps, eyes flickering from the fresh blood on her fingers to my bloodless countenance. _

_ The sight of my blood on her hands dizzies me and I lose my balance as the world spins. Giselle ducks under my shoulder and eases me to the floor in front of the fire. I lie down, watching the ceiling spin in front of me. Giselle dashes to the bed and returns with a pillow, lifting my head and sliding the pillow beneath it. I sigh as I sink onto the soft cushion. _

_ "Listen to me, you blithering __**idiot**__." she demands as she disentangles the laces of my shirt. "I was __**attempting**__ to relay the difference between those you so erroneously name 'your kind', and the woman I have come to know. I have been patient, Kathyra, and I know, I __**do**__, that it takes more than a span of months to undo the torture you were a slave to for __**years**__. But…but it is __**enough**__, especially in this situation."_

_ "What do you…" the words are cut short as she digs her fingers into the wound once more. _

_ "Am I worth anything to you, Kathyra?" she asks, and the anger is gone, replaced by her beautiful vulnerability. _

_ "Y…yes." I stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift of conversation. "I killed, Giselle…I killed four guardsmen…this is their blood."_

_ "And you did this, why?" she presses the inquiry._

_ "I…I wanted to…to come back to you." _

_ "Then this," she lifts my hand before my eyes, showing me the dried, encrusted blood sticking to my skin, "is rightfully mine."_

_ She presses her lips to my clenched fist and rests my hand at my side. Her deft fingers pull apart the torn material of my trousers, allowing her to examine the long, jagged wound from the guardman's sword. _

_ "Giselle…"_

_ "Seal your lips and let me work, Kathyra." she all but growls, stunning me into silence. "This wound is a filthy mess, and I have __**much**__ more to say to you, so allow me to finish and we will discuss matters then."_

_ "Very…well." I close my eyes, daring the spinning oblivion of the world to draw me down beneath it. _

_ A light tap of fingers against my cheek rouses me. "You still have a head injury." Giselle tells me. "No sleeping, no matter how delightful it would seem."_

_**This…is…torture…why is there nowhere else I would rather be? **_


	32. Chapter 32

**Kathyra**

_ I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, becoming accustomed to the clenching and relaxing of my body. I sink into a state of pleasant lassitude, the prick and pull of Giselle's needle but a distant sensation. A chasm of silence has grown between us. Giselle starts at every slight noise near the door, though at this hour of night it is unlikely that anyone will venture toward her room. _

_ I feel another sharp sting over my hipbone and my muscles twitch involuntarily. I lift my head from the pillow, ignoring the spark between my temples. I look at the woman who has become my savior, my guiding light. Giselle stares at the wound, her hands above it, shaking. Tears gleam in her intoxicating eyes and slip down her cheeks. Concern swells in my battered heart and I reach up, touching her forearm with my blood-stained hand. _

_ She turns to me and I attempt to soften my gaze, to keep her from seeing any of my pain, physical or emotional. "What is it?" I ask, worried by the storms I see in her eyes. _

_ "The sword cut to the bone." she whispers. "You…it must have been so painful...you walked all this way..." she shakes her head and returns to her work, the slow stitching of the tear in my skin, the chasm spreading between me and her. _

_**Can you mend this rift, Giselle? **__I wonder as I watch her expert hands continue their work, slowing the flow of blood, knitting my skin together. __**Can you convince yourself that this is what you want? I cannot promise the end of this. I cannot promise that I will not kill again…but I want to give you that. I want to give you that promise. **_

_"I'm sorry." I apologize, but the words feel flat as they leave my lips. "I never wanted…"_

_ "I know, Kathyra." her words are fierce, but they lack any hint of anger. "But it is my actions that put you in this place…I never considered…my actions have never affected someone else. And the fact that I made you revisit your hell, and now I sit here, stitching your skin together…trying to understand myself."_

_ "What do you need to understand?" I ask, puzzled by her words. _

_**She is so confident, so unwavering in her beliefs. Surely she knows all of her self that she needs. Why then this question, why then this search for understanding? **_

_"I do not know who I am outside of myself." she speaks. "All of my life, I have been separate from the waking world, walking on the fringes of two separate lives, never needing acceptance because I knew it would not be rendered. I am a healer, and for so long, that is all that I was…now I realize, Kathyra…now I realize."_

_ "What do you realize?" I find myself unable to do anything but ask her questions, for this side of Giselle I have never seen. _

_ There is grief in her eyes for the first time, not the grief at the loss of a patient, or grief for the ignorance of the world. But grief for herself, sorrow for her life, and the way in which she has lived it. _

_ "I am also a woman...a woman who was never a child…but who was never fully hu…realized." she tucks her hair behind her beautifully pointed ear and continues the movement of her needle. "I did not know what desire was, save in theory, save in the written word. And I was so **stupid**__, thinking that I, who knows so __**little**__ of the cruelty of the world, could do __**anything**__ to help you."_

_ I sit up at that, determined to wipe the desolation from her features, uncaring about my own pain. "Do you not understand what you have done to me?" I ask. _

_ "Yes." she stares at the closed wound, the line of neat, careful stitching. "I have done this. I have torn open the wounds in your heart and I have caused your body to be broken. Why is it that the one person I desire most to aid the one I continuously hurt? I have pushed to far too hard and…"_

_ "Giselle, hush." I tell her, amazed to find that I might have the answers for her…answers that I never thought to possess. "This is the way of…" I stop, finding myself once again at the edge of a precipice. Beyond it lies my future, beyond it lies the most difficult of tasks…forgiving myself; leaving behind a life that I no longer desired…but bringing its skills and lessons into my new existence. "This is the way of those who love." _

_ Giselle's eyes go wide and her hand drops the needle. It makes the barest sound against the stone floor, but it rings in both of our ears as a thunderclap, a volcanic eruption…the world realigning and changing on such a minute scale as to never be remembered. But this sound, this moment, it is the bell ringing in our new eternity. _

_ "You are strong," I tell her. "You are fierce and lovely, and never have I witnessed you speak in anger in your own defense. Never have I seen you act in a manner that is selfish. You push because you desire, you desire because you have so much __**love**__ within your heart, and the world is too damned **ignorant**__ to realize and accept it. Look at me." _

_ She remains motionless, staring at the wound still, attempting to contrast the truths written in my body with the truths spoken from my lips. _

_ "Look at me, Giselle." _

_ Slow, hesitant, her eyes turn to mine and I fall into the brightest shade of green ever molded by the hand of a god. _

_ "I would die a thousand times, kill a hundred men, walk the world forth and back, bleeding from every pore, if it meant returning to you. I…I can accept this," I extend my hand to her, letting her see the cracked and drying blood upon the skin. "I can…forgive myself, if you would only consider this hand worthy enough to take in your own. This is what you have given me…and if you say that you have sent me back to hell, I fell there willingly from the heaven that is your presence."_

_ "You cannot…you cannot…the way of those who love?" the true question voices itself. "Do…you…"_

_ "I have no notion of __**how**__ to love, Giselle." I whisper._

_ Giselle rinses her hands and begins to wash the blood away from the wound on my leg. "Neither have I." she admits. "And in truth, if love is you bleeding on my floor…I am terrified."_

_ "As I was terrified when first I met you." I breathe, catching the hand that lifts a warm cloth to my face, cleaning away yet more blood._

_ "You cannot conquer the world in a day, Kathyra." Giselle sighs. _

_ "I do not need the world." I smile, loving how the firelight dances in her eyes. "I simply need…you, if you will have me."_

_ "I…I have never had anything that belonged to me, Kathyra." Giselle stares at me, shaken. _

_ "Until now." I am so certain of these words, so certain of this moment, that I am as a stranger to myself. "I am not mine, Giselle. You own me, mind, body, and soul."_

_ "I do not wish…I do not wish to put you once more in that position." Giselle's eyes widen, frightened by the notion. "I will not __**ever**__ visit upon you the horrors you have known, Kathyra, do not…"_

_ "I trust you." I break every bardic code, written or verbal, with those three words. "I trust you to keep safe what little I have left to give, if only you will tell me you want it."_

_ More tears fall from Giselle eyes. "This is your head injury speaking." her eyes drift to the floor. "You will wake tomorrow and have no recollection of this moment. I cannot do such a thing to you."_

_ "I am more clearheaded than I have ever been." I promise, desperate to know why she is avoiding the question, evading me as she has never done before. _

_ "How do you know…"_

_ I think of her, forward, direct, in every situation but this. When confronted by love, she falters, for she is accustomed to the world tearing from her every dream. _

_ "Damn it, Giselle," I speak with her own ferocity, "I asked you once, so long ago, to choose me for your apprentice."_

_ "I do not understand the correlation."_

_ I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder, making it impossible for her to look anywhere else but into my eyes, to see the clarity there, the surety. _

_ "Love me, Giselle." I breathe, but it is not an order. It is a plea. "Love. Me."_

_ Giselle says nothing, but she takes my hand from her shoulder and threads her fingers through my own, accepting the blood, accepting the scars, accepting the fears in both of our hearts. _

_ Laughter and tears mingle and coalesce into a new, beautiful emotion…one so indescribable it has no word given to define it. "Yes." _

_ The vow is not sealed with a kiss, for both of us are wounded, one in body, one in heart. Instead, a quiet assurance surrounds us, knowing that wheresoever we venture…neither of us will be alone. _


	33. Chapter 33

**Kathyra**

The gentle rocking of the ship was like a pain-filled lullaby. The sort of song that must ring in the mind of a child who is beyond the point of comfort. A desolate beauty of once remembered solace. A holy still covered the room, the sole sounds that dared break the silence were the quiet rasps of Rylie's breathing. It felt like a moment of contemplation, the dim light, the creaking of the vessel, even the scent of blood.

"Leliana, might I ask something of you?" Kestrel questioned, her voice light and barely above the unobtrusive noise of the ship.

"But of course."

"Where…how did you find the strength to take down Cassandra?" the templar private inquired. "Her mere presence is enough to quiet the most boisterous of tongues. And yet…I cannot believe she is chained in the hold."

Soft laughter followed the words, the laughter of the delirious, the exhausted, those staring at the brink of sanity and realization.

"I learned something, not so long ago." Leliana smiled. "That true leadership takes the form of servitude. That it is gentle and free from cowardice. That it does not boast, but stands silent among the tempests of the world and remains…that it stands no matter how bloodied, that it presses forward despite the darkness."

"But Cassandra saved the Divine…the entire city of Val Royeaux." Kestrel argued the definition. "She is by all standing and account, a hero."

"Heroic deeds do not a leader fashion." Leliana's tone was gentle. "Cassandra is formidable, true, and skilled, and imposing. But she is brash, reckless, and places too much confidence in her own heart…and yet her heart is given to disbelief. She doubts the intentions of everyone." Leliana's eyes fixed on me and they _burned_, so full of light and life and hope. "Even one that she named to me her friend…she would have left her to die."

"People die in war, Leliana." Kestrel mused, attempting to puzzle through the former bard's perception of Cassandra Pentaghast. "Casualties are…are expected, even acceptable."

"_Never_ when they can be prevented." Leliana spoke, fire and steel.

"How can you be so certain that they are going to survive?" Kestrel asked, the first layers of defeat entering her voice. "Kathyra's condition grows worse by the moment, and Rylie," her voice cracked, "Rylie…"

"I am certain because there is a god of love and kindness in this world. A god who is not asleep, who has not abandoned us. And such a god will _not_ let these two leave before their time."

"I suppose, in the scheme of this world…if you speak of the Maker, then what you say can be nothing less but true." Kestrel allowed, but the defeat still marred her tones.

"Surety hard-earned." Leliana all but whispered. "And a prayer constantly employed."

"Prayers of the righteous…it is said that they avail much." Kestrel mumbled. "But we…we are not the righteous, are we, Leliana?"

"There is no proper definition for that word." Leliana shook her head. "As a concept, perhaps…but not as a reality. If the prayers of the righteous are all that are heeded, then all our words fall on deafened ears. For none of us, _none_ of us, can achieve that definition."

"That sounds…grim." Kestrel contemplated the words. "And yet it resonates with truth. Someday, Leliana, I want to learn, and achieve, the faith you have in hope…strange as that may sound."

"I have no faith in hope." Leliana informed. "Hope is tenuous, and malleable; it changes as we change, alters as we alter. I place my faith in love, Kestrel."

"Yet you…you have known these women for so little time." Kestrel gestured to Rylie and myself. "How can you have faith that they will survive?"

"I love them both." Leliana replied, and my world shook at its foundation.

_You…you belong to another. How can you love those who have wronged you, those who are but strangers?_

"And, as tales would have it, your love can bring back the dead." Kestrel laughed and Leliana joined in, both of them unaware that in my heart, I was torn, broken, and losing my hope and faith.

Love was a distant dream…often remembered, never regretted, and horribly, horribly missed.

* * *

_Giselle tends to the gash on my head with great care and concern, wincing as the removal of dried blood reveals extensive, dark bruising. _

_ "Maker's breath, Kathyra." she whispers, cleaning grit from the wound. "An inch to the left and that blow could have killed you."_

_ "It didn't." I smile, but it turns to a wince as Giselle applies an astringent salve to the wound. _

_ "You stubborn fool." she attempts seriousness, but her lips quirk upwards at the corners. "Kathyra…have you given any thought to what we are going to do?"_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ Giselle purses her lips. "The word of what happened in the dungeon will reach Dorothea's ear with the sunrise, if not sooner. She cannot find you here…and yet you are in no condition to walk any distance."_

_ "Let me handle Dorothea, Giselle." I ask her, I ask her to put faith in me, to put her trust in the hands that haven taken lives. _

_ "Kathyra, I do not want…we have no way of surviving outside of the protection of the Chantry. I can hold my own against Dorothea, I have done so for years, but she is now in a position, the clinic is now in a position, to cast me out onto the streets yet again. I could not bear…I could not bear that fate for you…not again."_

_ My mind begins to work, in spite of my injured state. __**I had a plan, **__the remnants of memory gnaw at me, __**for when I was freed…but it seemed so needless to pursue. And yet now…such a plan might be set in motion again. **_

_"I have to leave." I sit up, ignoring Giselle's hissed admonishments. I turn to her and take her hand in mine. "Giselle, please trust me. I am all right, and I will return, and…and all of this can change. I swear it; please believe me."_

_ "I'm worried for you, Kathyra." she states, and the simplicity of the words breaks me yet further. _

_ "Don't be." hope strikes a spark in my heart and I lean forward, pressing my lips to hers in a brief, fiery kiss. "I promise you, all will be well."_

_ "Just…take care." her fingertips whisper over the gash in my forehead and her eyes fill with tears. "I'll be waiting for you."_

_ Never…__**never**__ have I felt such a rush of joy as those words inspire. _


	34. Chapter 34

**Kathyra**

_**I know it is here somewhere**__! even my thoughts are weary as I steady myself on the walls of Val Royeaux, searching in the loose brick for something left behind what seemed so long ago. __**Surely, surely no one has discovered it. I hid it well, ensconcing my freedom in my prison. So many years…so many years spent in torment, Maker give me grace…so many years in torment to purchase a life I was too blind to see I could not have. **_

_ "I want a different life now." I whisper to the darkness, to whatever spirits might be lurking. _

_ Even in the black of the night, the world continues to spin; every step taken sends fire shooting through my body. I have reached the limit of human endurance, but still I press on, guided by a memory of bright green eyes, my stars in the bleakest of pitch-dark skies, a compass to ever guide me home. _

_ At last I feel it beneath my fingers, the faintest disturbance of the grit in the mortar, the loose brick I patiently carved out for hours, shedding tears for innocence lost, for memories damaged, for life unlived. I scrape away the vestiges of the mortar, looking up and down the deserted street, feeling eyes in the shadows as ever I have, for I know what dwells there. _

_ The loose brick falls into the street, shattering like the dreams I had clung too when loosening it. Dreams of a life with my sister, repairing the damage done to both of us, learning to live outside of the demented, twisted path of the bards. An honest life, spent in honest work, common laughter and tears, inane joys and sorrows, mundane pleasures and pains. _

_**A normal life**__, I think, reaching into the cavity and withdrawing the heavy leather pouch still safely concealed within. __**Something I do not think I shall ever possess, if Giselle and I remain beside each other. Yet I am content with that. **_

_I look to the sky, sighing as I realize that sunrise is too far from me, and that I am in no condition to push myself further. I shiver with cold, even though the night is warm, and stare at my blood soaked clothes, cursing myself dor being a madwoman. _

_**Is this love**__, I ask myself, inquiring of the mind that holds no answer. __**This madness, this constant ache in my chest? This surety in every action taken…how strange and how comforting. **_

_ I lean against the wall and begin the relatively short trek back to the Chantry. I mock myself as I press on, remembering the foolish young woman who had chosen to hide away a small fortune in the place where my naïveté presumed the purest hearts would dwell. _

_**This entire world is polluted**__, my thoughts mutter as I stagger into the Chantry for the second time this night. __**How is it that I found one radiant heart in this pit of filth and squalor? How is it that this city can hold one of purity and strength…and leave it undestroyed? How blessed am I**__, I stand at Giselle's door once again, this time confident, assured, unafraid, __**that this light is mine? **_

_ I step inside her room, smiling as she rises from the chair before the fire and veritably runs toward me, searching my eyes, taking my hands within her own. _

_ "You're freezing." she whispers. "I cannot believe I let you depart…you are in no condition to…to do anything."_

_ "I am fine." I assure her, admiring the shadows that dance across her face and leave no scars, for they cannot touch her. She is all that is brilliance; all that is beautiful in my world. _

_ "You say that, trickster, but you're shaking like a leaf. Come and lie down." she wraps her arm about my waist and I wince at the slight pressure applied to the wound. _

_ "What of Dorothea?" I ask, more concerned for my physician than myself. "She cannot find me here, Giselle. It is not safe, at least not until further arrangements are made."_

_ "I do not care." she shakes her head and her golden hair flickers in the firelight like molten lava. "The torment I endured, Kathyra…wondering…wondering if you would survive, if somehow my selfishness would damage you yet further. All the while, Dorothea sermonizing in my ear, preaching of good works, pontificating about duties and callings when she possesses not the slightest notion of what such a thing entails. She is a woman despoiled by gold, besotted by power, and with every nod and false word of repentance and affirmation I burned in my soul, dying slowly."_

_ Tears line my eyes as Giselle's voice trembles with her memories. My heart aches as it remembers the nature of belief, of hearing another's words and knowing, without even the pretense of doubt, that they are true. I have not known that luxury since my parents were alive. _

_ Giselle guides me to her bed and I look at it, pure and undefiled as the one who dreams there. I look at my tattered, bloodstained state and cringe at the thought of resting in such a place. _

_ "I shouldn't…I am…I need…"_

_ "To rest." she finishes the sentence and her voice is soft, kind, and forgiving. _

_ Gentle, she removes the pouch from my hand and sets it on the small table near the bed, not questioning its weight or its contents, not realizing the dream I have for the both of us. _

_ "Sit down, Kathyra." she whispers, guiding me to rest, to comfort and solace and peace, something I have only known in her presence. _

_ Giselle worries her lower lip with her teeth and reaches out, catching the laces of my shirt. "May I…" her voice lowers, and she cannot finish the question. _

_ I lay my hand over hers and begin to loosen the laces. "Yes." I agree, knowing that she has seen me naked, wounded, and vulnerable, but that this time…it is different. _

_ Slow, with great care, Giselle finishes with the laces and lifts the shirt over my head, folding it and setting it aside. She steps nearer and the stringent, calming scent of herbs washes over me as the material of her clothing brushes across my cheek. She loosens the catch of my breast band and the material falls away, leaving me shivering in the cold air and from Giselle's warmth, her nearness, the light grazes of her fingertips lighting flames wherever they venture. _

_ She kneels before me and looks into my eyes before taking the rest of me in. Her hand reaches out and touches the twisted, puckered flesh of my right side, the gruesome scar from the wound she mended. _

_ "You are beautiful, Kathyra." the words leave her in a rush, and warmth floods to my cheeks. _

_ The words are not foreign to me, but never before have they been said…with no endgame, no ulterior motive but to give me the truth. _

_ I shiver and flinch as Giselle removes my trousers with painstaking care to avoid my injuries. In spite of my exhaustion, I have never felt this…this…overwhelming desire. My physician turns her beautiful eyes to the wound on my hip and leg, assessing it, caring for my body as she unwittingly heals my soul. _

_ "You've lost too much blood, Kathyra." she touches the stained bandaging and I curl my fingers into the sheets, my traitorous mind imagining those skilled hands moving upwards, with languid, torturous intent and purposes. "You should not…" _

_ "It was important." I halt the self-recrimination in her tone, unable to keep my voice from shaking. _

_ "I understand." she nods. "Lie down, Kathyra." _

_ Gingerly, I lower myself down onto the pillow, letting Giselle cover me with the warmth of the blankets. She vanishes from view and my eyelids begin to droop of their own volition. A moment later, I feel the warmth of another body alongside mine, feel the faintest brush of skin on skin. My heart begins to pound as the nightmares surge forward, of being used, of losing my mind and pieces of my soul. _

_ "It is only me." Giselle comforts, and once again her scent intoxicates me, her voice grounds me in the waking world that is quickly becoming the sweetest of dreams. "I want nothing but to rest with you, Kathyra, to hear your heart beating…you were nearly torn from me and I…I need this. I understand if it is too much to ask, but…"_

_ I reach behind me, take her hand, and bring it to rest on my stomach. It is the faintest of touches, the lightest of contact, but every nerve fires with life and vim and vigor. _

_ "I love you, Giselle." I speak the words I thought never to utter again, and I begin to weep as my heart realizes its freedom. _

_ Behind me, I hear the soft sounds of my physician's sorrow, and I realize that the tears are a salve, an antidote, soothing the wounds in our hearts and healing the poison in our souls. _

_**Tonight is a night for dreaming. And all my dreams are yours. **_


	35. Chapter 35

**Kathyra**

_**"What do you say, Leron?" I cringe as I hear the deep baritone of one of Leron's less than savory contacts. "Are you ever going to capitalize on this…rather peculiar investment?"**_

_** "In good time." Leron smiles, and a gleam enters eyes the color of muddied water. "Time will witness the end of all plans laid in motion."**_

_** "The…uh…fruit is ripe for the picking, Leron." the contact's eyes follow me as I pour wine for the both of them and retire once more from the room.**_

_** "You're an ungentle gardener." Leron hisses, and his fingers crackle with the spark of lightning. **_

_** "Like your 'children', as they were, require a delicate touch?" a drunken guffaw. "Were I you, Leron, I would…"**_

_** The words trail off into the whispers of debauched men, and I lean against the wall, my chest heaving as I think of my precious, beautiful little sister. The way her fingers dance over the strings of her instruments, how she becomes one with the steps of the dance, how her voice lifts the heart when it raises in song. **_

_** My heart begins to burn in my chest as, for the first time, I realize that not all might be well. I peer into the room to see Leron with a leering, maleficent grin on his face as his contact continues whispering. **_

_** Blood drains from my face and my ribs feel as though they will be broken by the furious pounding of my heart as I realize that this haven, this home…might soon become a hell.**_

* * *

_"Kathyra," a light voice, close in worry, "Kathyra, darling, wake up."_

_ My hands tangle in the bed sheets as they search for a weapon. My breath sounds harsh in my chest and the wound in my body burns with an unholy fire. A foreign hand touches my cheek and I reach up, grasping the delicate wrist, knowing I can break it with a single twist of my arm._

_ "Kathyra, please," a pained gasp, "you're hurting me."_

_ The fog inside my brain dissipates and I relinquish Giselle's wrist. She cradles her wrist against her chest and looks at me with such sorrow in her gaze that I feel as though my heart has been speared through. _

_ I sit up, attempting to clear the memory from my mind, attempting to deny the pain I had just witnessed in my physician's gaze. _

_ "Lie back down." her voice is gentle, a gentleness that I do not feel I deserve. _

_ Her hand reaches out, tentative, the ghost of a touch along my spine. "You were having a nightmare." she explains. "It is all right; I understand. Please, lie back down."_

_ "I…I hurt you." I mumble. _

_ "Stop being senseless." Giselle orders, not ungentle. "It will not even bruise, but you will only aggravate your injuries if you refuse to rest. Lie. Down."_

_ Reluctant, uncomfortable, I sink back down onto the mattress and begin to shiver as movement makes me aware of the still fresh wound. Pain fissures through me, physical, emotional, mental. I remain silent, attempting to sort through the waves of confusion pouring over me. _

_ "Should I leave you be?" Giselle asks, pulling farther away. _

_ I turn my eyes to her, stunned by the pulse of heat that runs through me at the sight. Her hair, wild and unkept with sleep, draping around her neck, sprawled on the bed. The blanket barely covers her breasts, and the smooth expanse of her skin is tempting, tantalizing, and I am conflicted and bewildered and aroused and a…a mess. _

_ "I do not know." I press my hand to my forehead, finding it slick with sweat. "I could have broken your wrist, Giselle…you should want to run."_

_ "And yet I find myself in the distinct position of wanting to remain here, beside you." Giselle counters. "I know you are afraid, trickster, but you are planning a future…one that I assume includes me."_

_ "Yes." I assure her, turning onto my uninjured side and looking into her devastating, luminous eyes. "Yes, of course it does."_

_ "And you fear this." she catches a strand of my hair between her fingers and runs them down it. "Intimacy. Physical and emotional. Of course, I must admit that I am completely ignorant of the physical aspect but…but I can listen, Kathyra. And you may trust that I will hold your confidences in sacred trust."_

_ "It was less a nightmare, more a memory." I reach out and run my hand along her arm, savoring the smoothness of her skin, its lack of scars. "I dreamt of when my life changed…when I changed in Leron's vision."_

_ "Fighting for a future and dragged back to the past." Giselle sums up my life in a simple sentence, but the emotion in her words dissuades me from believing her flippant. "So tell me of a new dream, Kathyra. Tell me of what you see in the future you desire to build."_

_ "You." I whisper, feeling a lump build in my throat. "Nothing else matters, in truth. But I…I want to give and I do not know how. I want to be whole, but everywhere I look there are broken pieces of myself, and the edges are sharp and I am afraid of hurting you."_

_ "You truly do not understand what I feel, do you?" the query is followed by a light laugh. "Of course not. You are still struggling to see yourself as worthy of…of being spoken too with kindness."_

_ The words are not harsh, but I feel them scour through my soul in an attempt to wash it clean. "I want…I want so much to be different. I want to much to be able to change, to turn the fears aside, to stop the dreaming, the nightmares, the madness that restrains me every time I attempt to struggle forward. I am terrified of harming you and...and terrified that you will leave, that this is all but a dream."_

_ "I am not afraid of being hurt." Giselle tells me. "I am not afraid of you."_

_ "But I might have…"_

_ "I love you, Kathyra." Giselle breathes. "And you are afraid of yourself, placing that fear on others in order to turn it into a truth because the future is…it is a terrifying place. Come here, my darling."_

_ She opens her arms and folds me into them, resting her head between my shoulder and neck, pressing her lips in light, tender kisses along my collarbone. Heat pools deep into my body, infusing me with warmth. _

_ "Are you afraid of this?" she asks, making no further move, simply holding me, cradling me against her heart, her body, spirit to spirit and soul to soul. "In this moment, are you afraid?"_

_ "No." I answer, heartened to find that it is true. _

_ "Then if all you desire for your future is me, you are there now." I can feel her smile. "And fearless in the face of it."_


	36. Chapter 36

**Kathyra**

_ I awaken to a dim warmth. Giselle sits on the edge of the bed, preparing for the morning. My breath catches in my chest and my mouth goes dry. I want to reach out, tangle my fingers in the tresses of her golden hair, gently pull her back to the bed, kiss her slowly and passionately, run my hands over the paradise of her smooth, pale skin. _

_ Instead, I content myself with watching as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and begins to dress. The requisite Chantry robes do nothing to enhance her appearance, but I have memorized every curve, every nuance of her body, and I know that she is beyond beauty, beyond desire. _

_ "Good morning." I greet her, and my voice is hoarse with exhaustion and the slowly awakening awareness of pain. _

_ Giselle turns her eyes to mine and I smile, attempting to rise and wincing as the bruises remind me of last night's escape and struggle, so at odds with the lingering peace I feel now. _

_ "Don't try to get up." Giselle advises, sitting beside me and taking my hand. "You need to rest, Kathyra. I cannot stress this enough, seeing as you persist in being the most __**stubborn **__patient I have ever encountered. Besides, you cannot risk being seen in the Chantry this morning…although I've no idea what will happen should Dorothea inquire of the city guard your status." she sighs and the sound cuts straight to my heart. "I am completely at a loss, Kathyra." _

_ "I am not." I tell her. "And there are certain things I must attend to…"_

_ "None that involve you getting out of bed." she orders. "I cleaned your wound as best I could, but that dungeon was filthy and I won't have you gadding about while there is still a risk of infection, and reopening the wound."_

_ "Do you wish to be free of this place or not?" I ask, slightly frustrated with consistently being incapable of doing anything to help her, whether it be physical wounds or emotional scars or mental ineptitude. _

_ "What…what do you mean?" her brow furrows and confusion fills her eyes. _

_ "I am attempting to build a life for us, Giselle." I tell her, looking at the leather pouch, worn with age and filled with dreams and memories of blood. "I presumed it best to act soon."_

_ Giselle runs her hand through her hair and looks me in the eye. "Kathyra, there is something you need to understand."_

_ My heart sinks at the tone of her voice. I have heard her speak this way before. It is the delivering of bad news, the regret of one who could not save a life. It is the death knell, and I go cold. _

_ "What is it?"_

_ "There is no life for us outside of these walls." Giselle speaks, and tears line her eyes. "I am…I am Dorothea's prisoner. She made that clear last night…there is proof, Kathyra. Proof in writing. I would not have believed it unless she showed it to me…" Giselle gathers her composure and wipes the moisture from her eyes. "When my father died, my half-brother decided to wash his hands of me. The bastard contracted my services to Dorothea and this Chantry as if…as if I am some sort of slave."_

_**No way out. **__I realize, seeing the grief and terror in her face. __**Trapped here…trapped in this unforgiving world that will use her and abuse her and break her healing hands. **_

_ "Nothing is set in stone, Giselle." I attempt to console her, to dry those tears from her eyes. "There must be something we can do, something __**I **__can do."_

_ "You don't understand." she stresses, and a manic edge enters her voice. "This will forever be a dream unrealized, Kathyra. I…I did not mean to lie to you, for I thought my life my own. Dorothea, however, has decided to deny me even the blissful illusion of free will. I am a pet, a captive, not even a whole person. And no, the chains that bind me do not come laced with abuse and bloodshed and unmitigated horror, but they are chains all the same."_

_ "And you are simply going to deny yourself a chance for life?" I ask, bewildered. _

_ Though she is angry, it appears as though Giselle has accepted this fate; that the strong-willed, brilliant, defiant woman I have come to love has…has…relinquished all hold of victory. _

_ "How can I deny what does not exist!?" she asks, despondent. "My life is unraveling at the seams, and I have…I have __**lied**__ to you, Kathyra. How can you forgive me when I sit here before you and say that the future I whispered to you of last night cannot __**exist**__? I cannot even forgive myself."_

_ "Giselle, please…" my heart breaks as she shakes her head. _

_ "You deserve better." she states, as abrupt and forthright as she has ever been. "What is between us, fledgling though it may have been…I indulged the dream yesternight, I told the truth yesternight, but in the cold light of dawn," she inhales, deep, preparing to deliver the final blow, "it cannot be."_

_ "Do not say that." I breathe. "Please, Giselle, you have given me every hope for the future. Why can you not let me attempt to do the same for you?"_

_ "Because ink is blood, Kathyra!" she hisses. "And you have known your share of torment and nightmares and I __**will **__**not**__ allow you to throw yourself backwards into hell because of some transient emotion."_

_ "You would cheapen what…" _

_ "I __**have**__ to." her voice cracks, and my soul with it. "I have to or I will not be able to continue, Kathyra. Please…Creators and Maker damn me into the abyss, I love you, trickster. I do. But I cannot hurt you, and I cannot live and love in secret. Such a thing would kill me." her hand reaches out and cradles my cheek. "I want to sing of you daily, shout from the rooftops that someone of such a deep heart and an insightful mind has found me worthy. But I am a slave, and less than a person, and bound by forces stronger than my own."_

_ "You gave me my freedom, Giselle." I whisper. "Why…"_

_ "You killed for me last night." Giselle interrupts. "I won't let you do it again. You deserve better."_

_ "I only want you." I tell her, cringing as those last three words tear a chasm in my spirit. "Giselle, I only want…"_

_ "If I were mine, Kathyra, I would be yours." she assures me. "So thank you for the dream, my darling girl. You've no idea…you've no idea the gift you have given me. But you must recover, and be on your way, and forget that I am here, and forget that once we dreamed of love."_

_ "I will not do that." I refuse. "I cannot do that. I would betray my very soul. This dream is not dead, Giselle."_

_ "It is." my physician orders, stern. "Time to wake up now, trickster."_

_ Giselle leaves me alone in the room, intent on living her life in servitude. But I know that life, and I will not see her beautiful, gentle spirit broken by the burden of the world. I climb out of the bed and limp to Giselle's bureau, finding something suitable to wear. _

_ "As the Maker is my witness, Giselle," I swear, lifting the pouch that holds my future and my dreams, "I will see your chains broken."_

_**I will not let the woman who freed me find herself enslaved. No power on earth can stand against me. **_


	37. Chapter 37

**Kathyra**

_ I limp down the stairs of the chantry, thankful that the early morning finds it somewhat deserted. I would like to think that Dorothea has kept news of the arrest and subsequent incarceration from reaching the ears of all who dwell here, but experience has taught me otherwise. There are no secrets, no knowledge bound strictly to one person. _

_ I slip behind a pillar as I catch the severe posture of Mother Dorothea striding into the foyer, Giselle in her wake. _

_ "You are late, Sister Giselle." Dorothea's voice is sharp with reprimand, and I feel the sudden desire to spring from the shadows and end her life. "Do I presume you ignorant of our discussion yesternight?"_

_ "Forgive me, Mother Dorothea." Giselle apologizes, and her head hangs low; the combative glitter is gone from her eyes. "Last night's sleep was restless."_

_ Dorothea's brows rise and a canny smile creases her weathered face. "I understand that, Sister." she attempts to sound consoling and it twists my gut. "I trust you were thinking of my arrangement with the captain of the guard, and of the trials your 'apprentice' will endure if you should not show the proper respect and repentance for your position and actions. Her release is solely dependent on your service to our Maker."_

_ "I understand, Revered Mother." Giselle whispers, and all of my questions vanish._

_ My hands curl into fists until my nails bite into my palms, so deep they nearly draw blood. __**Dorothea has power that outstrips any city magistrate. She answers only to the Divine, and the Divine is above the law. Even though I have escaped, Giselle is…afraid for my safety and well-being. She would be a slave for my freedom…that is the measure of her love. I will never doubt you again, Giselle. **__I smile, running my fingers along the leather pouch attached to my belt. __**And you need not harbor any manner of fear much longer, my physician. There are others who, too, are above the law.**_

_I sneak out of the Chantry, striding down the stairs and into the waking streets of Val Royeaux. I lean against another building, gathering my breath and attempting to ease the splitting ache in my side and leg as movement pulls the stitches and aggravates the deep bruising. _

_ I venture deeper into the streets, away from the shadows that once bound me. I am a free woman, unafraid, for those who would have been my captors lie dead, and there is no evidence to implicate me. It was a favor owed to Dorothea by the captain of the guard. Anything official and he would have been forced to answer to his superiors, who would frown on an alliance between the guard and the Chantry. _

_ I find the building I have been searching for. I stare at the inscription hanging above the door. A financial institution, filled with purveyors of gold, its lenders and protectors…those who stole my childhood home by letter of the law after my parent's murder. _

_ I enter through the door, seeking the office of a man…once my father's friend. At first a simple record's keeper, he had risen in rank and stature, becoming lord of land and gold and the fortunes of men and women. I am halted by a severe looking woman with her hair so tightly bound I am given to believe that her face suffers. _

_ "I need to speak with Messere Jordaine." I tell her, and her eyes take in my ragged state, my tousled hair, my bruised face and split lip. _

_ "Messere Jordaine is seeing no one at the moment. Please return another time." her voice is crisp, clear, but I can hear the underlying disdain beneath the professionalism. _

_ "It is an important matter…concerning family." I inform her, loathe to reveal too much. "Please inform him that Kathyra is waiting for him."_

_ She sighs and strides into the office door. After a moment, she returns, a single strand of hair loose and a miserable flush in her cheeks. "You may enter." she says, curt. _

_ I nod my thanks, stepping into the office, attempting a smile. Guilt washes over Jordaine's face, as it always does when he lays eyes on me. I know he has his regrets, but also that his hands were tied, and by the time his fortunes had changed, Marjolaine and I had been stolen by the shadows. _

_ "It has been quite some time, Kathyra." his voice is gravelly and worn with responsibility. "You've not been seen here for nigh on seven months. What brings you back?"_

_ "Hope, messere." I whisper as my palms begin to sweat. Inches from victory, I feel as though it shall be torn from my grasp, and all my dreams scattered onto the ground, irretrievable. "Hope that you have kept our accord."_

_ Jordaine rises and I see the stoop in his shoulders. Age and time have wearied him. "You look unwell, child." he says, unlocking the door to the room behind him. Jordaine walks between shelves filled with scrolls and parchment, finding a single scroll and blowing years of dust from its surface. He coughs in the dust cloud and returns. "Is all well, Kathyra?"_

_ I remember our first confrontation, when I had come to him, years after my parent's murder, already being twisted into Leron's image. Without tears, without remorse, I had berated him for the abandonment of his friend's children in their time of need, upbraided him for pursuing his prosperity while leaving others to falter. And we had struck an accord, gradually mending the rift between us to where such inquiries as the one he posed now were allowable. _

_ "It could be better, Jordaine." I give him the truth. "Marjolaine and I have…parted ways."_

_ "Then are you certain this is still your desire?" he holds the scroll out. "I can refund your coin, if that is your wish, Kathyra. I owe you that much."_

_ "I want this matter solved, Jordaine." I inform him, lifting the pouch from my belt and placing it on his desk. "I came to you many years ago, to earn back what was lost. You were…you were kind enough to hold it in trust for me, and now I will absolve you from the guilt of breaking the law."_

_ "There were many inquiries, Kathyra." Jordaine upends the pouch onto his desk, stunned by the gold that glitters before him. "Maker's breath, my girl…you've this much coin to your name and you tell me circumstances __**could**__ be better?" he slumps in his chair. _

_ "I trust this covers the matter of our debt, Messere Jordaine." I watch as he counts out the remainder of my debt with weathered fingers. The rest he returns to the pouch, and I scowl at him. "Take the appropriate amount, Jordaine. I will not accept charity. Not from you. Not now."_

_ "That __**was**__ the appropriate amount, Kathyra. In full. I've suffered enough keeping this deed in trust for you. It is a mediocre estate, but it lies in a highly lucrative area. I've fought wars with business men and nobles alike for that plot of land."_

_ "I understand that, Messere." I tell him, unrolling the deed to my childhood home and adding my signature alongside his, where I had forced him at dagger point to sign it so many years ago. "But it was my inheritance, and it was stolen…as was so much more. I have done my share, and I regret…I regret my actions from our first meeting. Please accept my apologies, Messere Jordaine, for any unfair grief or trial that I have caused you."_

_ Jordaine lifts his eyes to mine and scrutinizes me, the ire fading from his gaze. "You are a different woman than first I met." he surmises. "There is…there is something changed in your eyes, Kathyra."_

_ "I have found a new life." the barest of smiles lifts my lips as Jordaine applies his official seal to the deed of land, and the house that stands upon it. "And a plan for the future. You will not see me again, Jordaine. I only hope…I only hope that this can assuage your guilt."_

_ "And your sister?" he asks, brows raising and a soft affection entering his features. "Does little Marjolaine fare as well as you?"_

_ My lips begin to tremble and I extend my hand, taking the deed from him. "Better." I inform him. "She is…she is wealthy in her own right."_

_ "Then be on your way." Jordaine dismisses me, a curt note in his voice. _

_ "As you wish, Messere."_

_ I rise and walk to the door, my limp more pronounced as my injuries protest my movements. I bite my lip and continue moving, eager to be free of this place that has held part of my freedom, part of my dreams, prisoner. _

_ "Kathyra," Jordaine calls. _

_ I turn to face him. "Yes, Messere?"_

_ "You're frightfully pale and you look to be on the verge of collapse. Have someone see to you…for the sake of an old man who once…well…take care, Kathyra."_

_ "I will, Jordaine." I smile at him and exit his offices, the deed of land burning against my skin with the warmth of hope. _

_**Part the first, complete. Now…to wait for nightfall…and put that rancorous bitch Dorothea in her proper place. **_


	38. Chapter 38

**Kathyra**

"Kathyra," Leliana's voice greeted my ears, hoarse with smoke inhalation and too little sleep. "Kathyra, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

Stiff, exhausted, I waged the war to open my eyelids. The oil lamp illuminated the former bard's features, casting darker shadows underneath her eyes.

"Leliana." my heart lurched uncomfortably as I whispered her name. The conversations I had overheard in and out of my consciousness had only worked to make me feel what I had no desire to.

_She is so beautiful__**, **_my thoughts betrayed me. _Her spirit, her wishes for this world…to save, to heal, to preserve all that is right within the hearts of men. Even Cassandra could not break her…I doubt that anything could. _

"You're shaking." Leliana moved the blanket aside and examined the piece of wood protruding from my side. "And you've been muttering in your sleep for the last candlemark. I'm worried for you. Is there anything…anything I can do?"

"You've…done enough." I attempted to breathe deeply, failed as pain radiated through my body. "Please…you need…to rest."

Leliana smiled, and her eyes veritably shone with light. "It is no crime for a physician to accept help, Kathyra."

"I know that." I attempted to smile. "But…I am done…with pretense. We both know…I won't…survive."

_I want to go home…whatever eternity promises. I want to return to that. _

"Kathyra…" I heard that tone again, that boundless, devastating hope, and I could not bear it.

"I'm tired, Leliana." the words meant so much more, and I knew that she, of all people, would understand their full intent.

"Rest, then." she whispered, and I felt the softness of her lips press against my fevered brow, so soothing and kind and reminiscent of everything I had fought for. "All will be better in the morning, Kathyra." she made a mother's promise to a child trapped in nightmares. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

_I spend the rest of the day in the market, using the last of the coin I hold on furnishing my new home, building a dream. At times, I feel dizzy, and the wound from the guardsman's sword has begun burning, but hope forces me past the recognition of pain. _

_**I cannot let her remain in that prison, especially knowing that she does it for my sake. If this is love, I will be forgiven my forwardness. If this is love, then I am willing to risk everything for it. **_

_ The sun begins to set and I make my way towards the Chantry, wiping sweat from my brow, wincing as my hand brushes and rubs salt into the gash left on my forehead from the guardsman's sword. So much had changed in a single day, but never had I felt so strong, so invigorated, so determined in my goal. _

_ I slip inside the Chantry doors just as the night turns dark, listening to the familiar song raised by the sisters, the nightly prayer to the Maker. Certain that Dorothea is with them, I grasp the hilt of my dagger and linger in the doorway to the clinic, hoping to catch a glimpse of Giselle. _

_ I watch my physician as she moves from bed to bed, patient to patient. Even though I cannot see them, I know the kindness shining from her eyes, I know the comfort that her voice imparts. Yet in her face there is a strain, a pallor…her calling has been distorted, and she drives herself forward because she feels she must. _

_**What little of the world I have to give, Giselle. It is yours. These words…this confidence…all of it belongs to you, for you are the one who has given it to me. Forgive me for what I must do…please find it in your radiant heart to accept this measure of love. **_

_I steal up the stairs, light on my feet, in spite of my injuries. The pain is as nothing as vigor courses through my body, as I meld the bard and the physician, the light heart with the dark talent, the pure purpose with the deadly skill. Careful, unseen, I make my way to Dorothea's rooms, picking the lock and slipping inside, locking the door after me. _

_ The opulence in the room disturbs me, the plush carpeting on the stone floor, the pure gold of the candlesticks and bright steel of the wall sconces. The finest down comforter rests on the bed and I run my hands across the sheets, my frown deepening as I recognize the smoothest of silks. _

_**What sort of woman is she? **__I wonder, clenching the hilt of my knife in an attempt to curb my anger and keep from setting fire to this place. __**No woman who truly follows Andraste's teachings could allow such luxury in her life. This is…this is obscene!**_

_ I conceal myself behind the heavy damask curtains, cringing. Adding further insult to her title, Dorothea's curtains are embroidered with scenes from Andraste's life in the finest silken thread. The calling of the prophet by her Maker, the leading of the Exalted March, and calm acceptance on the Bride's face as she faced the pyre. Bile rises in my throat and I close my eyes so that I need not look on this travesty of faith. _

_**Even I, a sinner, know that the Maker's Bride would not wish to be honored in this way. She was a woman of battle, a woman of light…a woman who despised wealth and the domination of the weak by those who professed themselves and made themselves into more powerful tyrants. Andraste fought for all freedoms…those of humans, elves…all mortals who walk this earth. **_

_ I linger with my thoughts, smiling as I hear the key turn in the lock, as the heavy oaken door swings open. Dorothea enters the room and I watch her as she removes her Chantry robes, watching as the firelight glints off of the rich colors and fabrics. _

_ The revered mother dresses for the evening, for quiet meditation and peace and rest, uncaring that she has enslaved the most beautiful of hearts with promises of violence. Uncaring that she would let me be raped and tortured for the sake of a foolish contract and to keep her pets in line._

_ Dorothea stands before her roaring fire and pours what smells like fine brandy from a crystalline snifter into a goblet of the same material. A contented sigh leaves her lips as she watches the flames and indulges herself. I curl my hand around my blade, smiling. _

_**Wait until the enemy is most vulnerable, Kathyra**__, Leron's voice rings in my mind, sickening and somehow soothing. __**Wait until they are deeply engrossed in their creature comforts, sated in their lusts, distracted in their vices. Then, and only then, can you strike. **_


	39. Chapter 39

**Kathyra**

_ I remain behind the curtain as Dorothea sinks deeper into her brandy and silent meditations. My hand shakes as I pull my dagger free. All I can see is red staining my hands, the frightened look in Giselle's vibrant eyes…the words she had said to me not so very long ago. _

_**You killed for me last night. I won't let you do it again. You deserve better. **_

_ I stare at Dorothea, thinking of how easy it would be to, soundless and swift, draw this razor edge against her throat and end the suffering of so many. But I know the stakes. A worse tyrant would be put in place, and suspicion would fall on those with a grudge…and the confrontations between Giselle and Dorothea are not at all kept secret. _

_ I sheathe my blade and gather my composure, stepping from behind the curtain. __**I must win this differently. For Giselle's sake. For my own soul. **__I move directly behind her chair, blade in hand, prepared to do what must be done._

_"We need to talk, Dorothea." I break the silence, enjoying the gasp, the sound of shattering glass against the stone floor._

_ Dorothea begins to rise, but I grasp her shoulder in a bruising grip and fling her back into the chair, pressing the blade to her throat with a now-steady hand. It is the illusion that will win this fight, not the war. _

_ "Call for the templars and it will be the last sound you make." I growl, leaning in close, knowing that she is defenseless. "I ask only for a civil conversation."_

_ "You brigand." Dorothea hisses, remaining still as my blade gouges deeper into her weathered skin. "You are but a physician's apprentice. How did you…"_

_ I laugh in low tones, letting it echo, menacing and cold. "I am not what you perceive me to be, Dorothea. And you would be remiss in believing that you alone rise above the law. Consider this a juxtaposition. Heaven meeting hell, as it were."_

_ "I knew that evil lurked within these walls." Dorothea's voice darkens. "I __**knew**__ that a viper had come amidst the doves."_

_ "Oh yes." I whisper, walking in front of her, keeping the blade in place. "But it is not I who have brought the darkness here to dwell. I came here seeking redemption, seeking healing, praying to a merciful god that I be allowed to turn from my wicked, __**wicked**__ ways."_

_ "There are those who are beyond redemption." Dorothea asserts, somehow managing to turn her nose up at me in spite of the bright bead of blood on her skin. _

_ "Yes." I agree with her. "But it is not me. I found what light was left to me, and it is the reason you still draw breath. I am here for one purpose, and one alone, Dorothea. And I have but one demand to make of you."_

_ "Demand?" her voice turns to ice. "You would make a demand?"_

_ "Yes." I nod and twist the blade the slightest bit. Dorothea winces and pulls away. "Give Giselle her freedom."_

_ Dorothea laughs, long and loud and grating. "This," she gasps for breath, "this is why you come to me in dark of night, bruised and battered and threatening murder? You would kill for that half-breed chit who holds herself above her station?"_

_ I grip the chair's arm with my free hand and press my knee against Dorothea's ribs, slowly applying pressure. "I would kill to see the purest woman in Thedas free from the chains placed upon her by the __**viper**__ who plays pretense amid doves. Your life, with all of its perceived power and station, is so __**insignificant**__ as to be __**inconsequential**__ in comparison with hers."_

_ "And who are you to make this decision?" Dorothea holds to her pride, in spite of the slow suffocation and imminent threat of death. "Who are you to discern who should live or die?"_

_ "I am a murderer, and a thief, and a whore, and a liar." I splay before her the litany of my crimes. "I am a __**sinner**__ in the Maker's sight. I know evil, Dorothea. I have let it blacken my heart and invade my mind. I have let it paw at my flesh and soak into my soul. And therefore I know what true good is…for it is everything that I. Am. Not. But you, you conniving, insidious, dark-hearted, miserable __**bitch**__, you are the furthest thing from good."_

_ "You will seal your lips…"_

_ "Order me again!" I drive my knee into her ribs, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain as ribs crack. "Find the strength within yourself to say you have not lied! Find the strength to say that you look upon __**all**__ men with but a measure of the compassion Giselle holds within her heart! Do it, Dorothea," I lean in close, whispering into her ear, "do it with full honesty and I will concede defeat. Tell me. Tell me now. Tell me how you are not a hypocrite. Tell me that you do not preach poverty and live in luxury, that you do not preach chastity and live in indulgence, that you do not preach charity and dwell in greed."_

_ Dorothea's mouth opens, her lips work, but no sound emerges. _

_ "You cannot hide darkness from darkness, Dorothea." I inform her. "But this is the __**delightful**__ part of our agreement. I will not whisper a word, if you will but give me what I desire. Give Giselle her freedom."_

_ "To what end?" fear enters Dorothea's eyes, and it is as a song to me. "She has __**nothing**__. She is forbidden to have __**anything. **__She is __**less**__ than a person and should be __**grateful**__ that her family made such arrangements for her."_

_ I strike the revered mother across the face with an open palm. "Why?" I ask the question that has tormented me for months. "Why do you hate her so and yet cling to her? What pleasure do you derive from being an owner of slaves!?"_

_ "The creature has its uses." Dorothea smiles, and I realize her game._

_ To cause me to lose my temper. To slip. To draw blood. _

_ "Do as I ask, Dorothea." I demand, allowing no argument. "Give me her contract and keep that which is most precious to you. Your life, your power, and your reputation."_

_ "How do you know what I hold precious?" she asks, but her voice trembles. _

_ "Damn you to hell, Dorothea." I strike her again in the chest, doubling her over as she struggles to breathe. _

_ I dash to her ornate bed and cut the heavy, rich cord that hangs from its canopy, returning and trying Dorothea's hands to the arms of the chair, and her ankles to the legs of it. _

_ "What are you doing, Kathyra?" with the absence of the knife, Dorothea grows bold and opens her mouth to call for the templars. I lift her discarded robes from the floor and stuff them into her mouth, sealing her cries from any who would hear. _

_ "If you will not give me what I want, with a reasonable accord between us, a mutual understanding," I inform her, glaring into her eyes, "then I __**will**__ take it by force. You've no right to condemn a heart you cannot understand. You have no right to hold back a light that could blind Andraste herself. I am nothing, Dorothea. __**I**__ am less than a person. Learn that definition. Look into your rotting, bloated heart and discover what it truly is to live in humility, peace, and caring. Transcend yourself for one moment of epiphany and work out your own salvation…but do not deny another theirs. Do not strip from a repentant sinner the only hope they've ever known."_

_ I get to my feet and begin to search her room, finding an ornate silver box atop Dorothea's desk. I pick the lock and flip it open, rifling through the contents, at last finding the contract that binds Giselle's services to the Chantry and puts her life in Dorothea's hands. _

_ "This." I hold the contract in front of Dorothea's face. "Is a sin. A crime in the eyes of the Maker. You cannot __**own**__ a person. You cannot __**deny**__ someone the life that they desire because of blood they did not ask for. You cannot punish an innocent for another's evils."_

_ Dorothea stares at me mute. I walk to the fire and set the contract alight, holding the flaming parchment and walking to the bed, setting the covers aflame. I touch the paper to the curtains, smiling as they begin to burn. Dorothea begins to call out behind the gag, scrabbling at the floor with her bound feet as the room becomes alive with devouring oranges, yellows, and reds. _

_ The heat rises in the room and I pull her chair to the center of it. I toss the remainder of the contract at her feet, letting the parchment blacken and crumble in front of her eyes. I remove the gag and glare at her._

_ "Remember this, Dorothea." I tell her. "Send guards, and they will die. Send templars, and they will end as bloodied smears on the streets, murdered by a phantom's blade. Speak of this and know suffering beyond what you thought possible. You cannot kill me, and you no longer have proof to substantiate your claims. Please, find what Giselle showed me was possible. Find your own redemption…and live your life in freedom."_

_ "I need not lift my hand against you." Dorothea spits in my face. "The __**Maker**__ will see me avenged."_

_ "Witness this cleansing by fire." I tell her. "The room is stone. You will not burn…you are not worthy of Andraste's death."_

_ Sweat prickles on my skin as the heat becomes intolerable. Smoke fills the room, ventilated by the window. I am certain that Dorothea will not perish, and that she will not speak of this, to keep her pride intact. I leave her vainglories to burn and stride down the hall, intent on finding my physician…and giving her what all who walk the earth deserve…the life they so desire. _


	40. Chapter 40

**Kathyra**

_ I hurry down to the clinic, hating the scent of smoke that has gathered in my clothes. I need to reach her before chaos breaks loose. I have to find her before the entire scheme falls apart and once more we are in Val Royeaux's dungeons, with true crimes to lay at our feet. _

_ I enter the clinic, my eyes frantically seeking Giselle. My physician emerges from the storeroom, arranging the tresses of her hair, the day's exhaustion evident on her face. _

_ "Giselle," I call her name and she turns her lifeless eyes to mine. They spark and flare into an expression so devastating I nearly come undone._

_ "Kathyra, what are you doing here?" she hisses, striding to me in long, worried steps. "Have you been seen? And damn you, where did you disappear too…you shouldn't be…"_

_ "I need you to get your things, Giselle." I take her by the shoulders and lock her eyes with mine. "It is very important, and quite urgent. Please. For me."_

_ My heart cracks as her gaze flicks to my hands, and I know she is looking for blood, for evidence of violence. "I cannot." she insists. "I have told you already…"_

_ "I made arrangements. Please, Giselle. Please." the pleading in my tone catches her ears and the strong, determined woman I have come to love re-emerges. _

_ "Wait here." she instructs. "I'll gather my things."_

_ "Everything you can carry." I prepare her. "Clothing, books, supplies…all that is dear to you."_

_ "Then we should go." she touches my hand, the lightest brush of skin that catches me aflame. "You are dearer to me than anything else in the world."_

_ "I know." I remember why she had been so brusque with me, turning me away to preserve my future. "You've proven that. Allow me to do the same. Now, hurry. Time is of the essence."_

_ "Promise me you're all right, trickster, or I won't stir a step."_

_ "Fine." I insist. "Go."_

_ "Remain here." she orders, and I can do nothing else but obey her. _

_ I pace back and forth in the clinic's entryway, ignoring all who come and go, even those who call my name in greeting. I expect the sounds of alarm at any moment as smoke seeps beneath Dorothea's door. I can only hope that the foolish wretch has heeded my warning, and that her brush with death will deter her from any further foolish action. _

_ Sweat trickles down my back as mere moments drag on to time eternal. The gash on my forehead pounds in time with the throbbing in my skull and my beating heart. The wound on my side feels as though it has been torn open anew as I wait and wait and wait…remembering the last time I paced this way, wounded in spirit and soul, waiting once again for a future._

_**A future whose scar I will forever wear in memory of its denial. Please, dear Maker, one shred of grace, one moment of forgiveness. I have no right to ask for even that little, but I beg you…I **__**beg**__** you…show me that redemption is no lie. **_

_ "Kathyra," Giselle's voice rings beside me and I turn to her, taking the heavy satchel from her outstretched hand. _

_ I wince as I sling it across my shoulder and it comes to rest on the wound in my side. _

_ Mirien emerges from the storeroom as we make to depart, her brow crinkled in consternation. "Do either of you smell smoke?" _

_ "No." I say, too quickly, and Giselle's eyes dart to mine, filled with apprehension. "Good evening, Mirien."_

_ I place my hand on the small of Giselle's back and guide her from the Chantry, hating the hesitance I feel in her body, hoping that this dream, too, will not be torn from me. We move through the city streets, away from the Chantry, away from the flames and the cries, and the ragged fury of a woman too powerful for her own good. A woman who would own slaves in a world where men were meant to live free. _

_ "Kathyra, where are you taking me?" Giselle asks, blunt. "Your face is locked in determination; I can feel the secrets weighing on your shoulders and I am…I am frightened. What have you done?"_

_ "I put Dorothea in her place." I tell her. "And I burned the contract that bound you to the Chantry."_

_ "By the Creators…" Giselle's hand flies to her open mouth, but she continues moving, following me. "Kathyra, she threatened me with your life! You have put yourself in __**grave**__ danger! And here we are, __**exactly**__ where I swore you would never be again! Adrift on the streets, with nothing…I would have stayed, Kathyra. I would have stayed and kept you safe…"_

_ "It would have killed you." I argue. "I saw your face, Giselle…the joy was gone. Dorothea had warped and twisted your calling…just as you had feared."_

_ "That notwithstanding…you are __**frustrating**__! What did you do? I doubt Dorothea handed you the contract, allowed you to cast it into the flames, and then bade you farewell with an exaltation to serve the fucking Maker!" Giselle's voice heats and her eyes scorch me with their intensity. "Tell me you did not kill again, Kathyra! Tell me you did not do that to yourself…not for me."_

_ "I did not." I pray that she can hear the honesty in my words, the desperation to let inquiries lie for a night and simply live. "Trust me, Giselle…please trust me."_

_ "I have never done anything less." she answers. "In spite of all counsel to the opposite. Did you know that even Mirien, that twitterpated fidget, advised me, this very day, to have nothing to do with you?"_

_ "Dorothea's puppet." I counter, though the news strikes me to my core. _

_ "That may well be, but the fact of this matter is that…oh, what am I saying? The words on the tip of my tongue were 'brash,' 'reckless,' 'foolish'…but I embody all these same traits. How can I accuse you of what I possess myself?"_

_ "Because your actions end in healing." I tell her the truth, as I see it. "And mine end in death. But this time, Giselle, __**this**__ time, with what you have taught me, with what I have learned…I think…I think I have finally found something worth risking everything for, something worth killing for, something worthy of living for."_

_ "Kathyra, what have you done?" she asks as we come to a stop on the street._

_ I stare at the home I remember from dreams, a modest estate, such as my father could afford. The door of my childhood home. Jordaine had seen to it that the house not crumble with age or neglect…as part of our contract…to keep his life and his family intact, though mine had been torn from me. _

_ But I had not been here in years, yearning for the day when I could look on it again, with my sister by my side…that I could give Marjolaine back what had been stolen. The girlhood dreams and idle fancies…but it was not to be. This city had corrupted us both…but the woman beside me now had given me the desire to claw my way out of the shadows and attempt to dream again, to live again, to love again. _

_ "This is what I have done." I take her elbow and guide her to the door, feeling strong enough at last to open it and step over the threshold of the life that had been stolen from a child so long ago. _

_ Giselle enters, and her eyes widen at the preparations that have been made. A fire glows in the hearth, and candles illuminate the entryway. A doorway reveals the main room of the house, where my family had gathered together in the evenings. I guide her into it, letting her see the tables, the shelves stocked with all the amenities the Chantry clinic had offered her. _

_ Her eyes widen and the satchel she carries falls to the floor. "Kathyra, what is this place?" she asks, moving into the kitchen and the dining area, back through the main room and up the stairs, to the room I have furnished as her office, and lastly, the bedroom, with its single bed. _

_ "It is…" my throat tightens and I am at the utter mercy of hope, "…it is your home, Giselle. If you so desire it."_

_ "Wha…what?" she turns to me and I forget my exhaustion and my pain. _

_ "When I bought my freedom from Leron," I tell her the end of my tale, "I had a plan in place. This is my childhood home…today I made the final payment owed." I remove the deed from where I had tucked it against my heart and hold it out to her. "I meant to buy it back and give Marjolaine back the life we should have had…the chance to thrive, the chance to live. When she betrayed me, those dreams died…and you gave me new dreams, Giselle. You taught me how to live again, and how to __**want**__ to live."_

_ "Kathyra, this," she brushes tears from her cheek, "this cannot be happening."_

_ "But it is, and it has…and if you cannot forgive me the risks I have taken, and if you cannot accept the gifts I would give…then I will go. And you can remain here, for I will __**never**__ let you fear being cast out again. But I want to live here, with you. And I want to make this place your home. And I want your defiance and determination to persist in the saving of lives…and not the defense of your own. I want…"_

_ My words cease as Giselle rips her satchel from my shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. She flings herself into my arms and presses me tight against her. _

_ "Oh, Kathyra…" her words break on a sob. "I want that too. I want nothing more."_

_ "Thank you." I breathe against her hair. "Thank you, Giselle."_

_ Hope fulfilled and trials endured at last break my resolve and I feel my legs begin to tremble with exhaustion. Giselle shores me up as my knees give out and the room begins spinning. _

_ "Kathyra…" _

_ "I'm all right." I assure her as I sink to the floor, cradled in her arms. "Just…tired." I look into her eyes and see all manner of futures within them. "And happy…so unbelievably happy."_


	41. Chapter 41

**Kathyra**

_ "Slowly," Giselle cautions as I attempt to rise after a moment of rest. "You have already strained yourself beyond any limit of sanity."_

_ She looks at me with one brow raised and I cannot help the smile that spreads across my face. "Forgive me?" I ask as I drag myself to my feet, avoiding putting weight on my left leg. _

_ Giselle slips her arm around me and helps me to the bed, an action so similar to yesternight, and yet everything has changed. There are sparks in her eyes, replacing the weariness and fear. There is intent in her touch, no hesitance, no timidity. _

_ "I'm not certain I should." she replies, but her tone is jesting. "You seem intent on consistently undoing my work. Let me see your wound."_

_ "Perhaps it is my innate desire for your touch that engenders this recklessness." I tease, feeling safe, staring at a familiar ceiling, with unfamiliar emotions coursing through me. _

_**It is been so long since I indulged in any sort of joy. It has been so long since I allowed hope in my heart that everything is made new. I am a child again…I am a child, rewriting my history, forgiving my past, allowing a present, dreaming of a future. **_

_ Giselle smiles, and her lips quiver as her hands unlace my trousers and pull them down. I gasp as her hands graze my skin, lightly ghosting across my hips and thighs. She pulls away, her eyes widening._

_ "Am I hurting you?" she asks. _

_ "No." I clench my hands into fists as my answer emerges in a hoarse rasp. _

_ "Are you certain?" she questions, looking into my eyes for the answers, answers I am not comfortable giving. _

_**So much has changed so quickly…and she is naïve in the ways of the world. Never having known a lover's touch…and the first lips to brush hers were tainted with lies and trickery and deceit. And the first hands that held her were those of a murderer. She deserves better, to come to her own decision, her own desires, before I act. In her time. In her time, as she has given me all that I needed. **_

_"Quite." I smile in encouragement and she continues removing my clothing, revealing the long, jagged wound left by the guardman's sword. I tense, waiting for her reaction, wondering at the damage I have done to myself. _

_ Giselle takes the flint and lights the candle on the bedside table, illuminating the room in a warm gold. She holds the candle in one hand and reaches out with the other. _

_ "There is blood on your bandages." she tells me. "This will hurt."_

_ "I appreciate the warning." _

_ "Fool." she lowers her head and begins to remove the bandaging._

_ Even though she is careful, the cloth clings to the skin, pulling away with difficulty. I grit my teeth against the discomfort and attempt to focus on the touch of her hands, once terrifying, now soothing. I cannot believe that I have come this far in so short a time, from a woman who despised the very notion of hope to the one willing to go against those more powerful in defense of it. _

_ "You are so lovely." I whisper, letting knowledge of my body fade. "So kind and gentle and forgiving. How is it that your eyes ever looked on me with desire?"_

_ Her hands do not cease their work, but they begin to tremble. "You were the first to offer me a kind word." she breathes. "The first to acknowledge that I, too, feel as mortals feel. That I experience grief, and loss, and hopelessness. You were the first to look beyond the eyes that glow at night, the points of my ears, the delicacy of my bones…and attempt to find the heart within. The first to take up my defense in the presence of…of my 'betters,' as they consider themselves."_

_ "Giselle," my throat goes dry, but I must be honest, I must give her the chance for the truest sort of freedom, "there are…there are those who would look on you that way. Those who are…who are not…not like me…who are…better."_

_ "Trying to run away again, trickster?" she asks, a lilt in her voice that I do not understand. "I had thought us past that point."_

_ "Not running." I hasten to explain. "I want…I want you to have everything you were never given; the opportunity to choose, not merely take what is offered. To find something…someone…you want."_

_ "I want you, so cease being idiotic." the absolute clarity of her statement shocks me into silence as the last of the bandaging comes free. Giselle hisses and I catch her eyes, afraid of the worry that I see in them. _

_ "The skin is inflamed." she says, running her fingers lightly along the stitches, sending sparkwaves of pain through me that cause me to flinch. "You should have remained in bed, Kathyra." she reprimands, but there is a gentleness in her words as she looks at what she knows was done for her sake. "What am I going to do with you?"_

_ "Whatever you so desire." I whisper, and I hear her breath catch in her throat. _

_ "You're in no condition for __**that**__." she says, and my body catches fire at her words as I see her, illuminated in candlelight, sensual and beautiful and completely unaware…completely unaware of what she does. Of who she is. _

_**A pure heart in a polluted world. Innocent and yet provocative, gentle and yet forceful, kind and yet dominant. There are none who match you, Giselle. **_

_"Lie still." Giselle orders. "Can you do that now, or am I asking too much?"_

_ I smile in reply and she shakes her head, moving off of the bed and lifting her satchel from the floor. She digs through it and sets her mortar and pestle aside on the table, then removes several pouches of herbs, pouring their contents into the mortar and adding a liquid that stinks strongly of alcohol. _

_ "Witch hazel and turmeric." she informs me as she grinds the herbs into a paste and slathers the mixture onto a fresh roll of bandaging. "It should help the swelling go down, and, with any luck, prevent infection." she presses the backs of her fingers to my forehead and frowns. "A little warmer than I'd like, Kathyra. You really should have…"_

_ "Listened." I take her hand in mine, grateful for the comfort that the simple touch provides. "I know. But I couldn't, Giselle. I could not let you live one day under that regime and pressure…I could not live one day with the memory of your words."_

_ "Will you ever forgive me for saying those things?" she asks as she begins to bandage the wound anew, the herbs cooling against the heat of my skin. "For…for lying to you as I did."_

_ "There are many kinds of lies, Giselle." I tell her. "And yours was one of love. There is nothing to forgive."_

_ "It hurt, Kathyra." she whispers. "I wanted to tear my heart from my chest, it hurt so badly."_

_ "Come here." I take her hand in mine as she finishes her work. "Lie down with me and rest, truly rest. There is nothing to see to, come the morning. No cruel voice to wake you, no demanding, ignorant fools to order you here and there."_

_ "I know." her voice trembles as she lies down alongside me, turning away and staring at the wall. "It is frightening, Kathyra…to go from a place of purpose and plan to this…I feel somewhat adrift, and while part of me welcomes it, another is…is afraid."_

_ I turn onto my uninjured side and pull her against my body, cradling her in my arms as I have longed to do. "Let morning come when it comes." I offer, pressing my face into her shoulder and basking in the scent and silk of her hair. "Tonight…"_

_ "Rest." she finishes. "For both of us." she yawns and curls further into my embrace, warming my heart. "I love you, trickster." the words are a half-asleep mumble, but they light a fire in my soul that will never be quenched. _

_ "I love you too, Giselle." I assure her, lightly kissing the tip of her pointed ear. "I love you too."_


	42. Chapter 42

**Kathyra**

_ "Is this how others live, Kathyra?" Giselle asks, surveying the expansive market square of Val Royeaux, the crush of people, the languages flying back and forth on the wind. _

_ "I wouldn't know." I answer with a smile, resting my arm across her shoulders. My eyes flit into the shadows, watching every furtive deal, every word whispered, remembering the days when I dwelt there. _

_ "How isolated we were." Giselle takes my hand. "All of this…I do not even know where to begin."_

_ I pull her close to me. It has been a week since our escape from the Chantry…a week spent in the bliss of silence and togetherness, planning for a future together, outfitting the first floor of our home into a small, functional clinic. Already word has spread and people have come, seeking her help...uncaring of her heritage. _

_ Though Giselle blanched at the thought of charging coin for services, she reconciled herself to it. I can sense that the adjustment has been difficult for her, but I know that she is strong enough to allow her life to change for the better. Even in this short time, she has loosened her tight control, no longer wearing her hair over her ears, or wearing robes as mandated by the chantry. _

_ "We can go home if you wish." I tell her. "I simply felt the need of fresh air."_

_ "Home?" she inquires, her eyes alight. "Such a simple word…something so many people take for granted. And yet I cannot believe that such a thing is mine."_

_ "Are you happy, Giselle?" I ask, worried that the wonder and awe will dissipate, that she will find herself confused and adrift and lost and wanting something different. _

_ "Are you going to persist in these obnoxious yet endearing inquiries?" she smiles and for a moment the world stops, time freezes, and everything is perfect. _

_ "Yes." I nod, emphatic, amazed at the peace I feel. _

_ Not so long ago, a crowded place would have me set on edge, seeking exits, afraid of the brush of a stranger or words said in passing. Instead, there is the calm that I have known only from her presence. _

_ "I am happy, Kathyra." she assures me. "You are well again, the sun is bright in the sky, I can pursue knowledge and healing and I…I have a __**home**__. What more could I want?"_

_ "Someone sane to share it with?"_

_ "Idiot." she elbows me in the ribs and I feign injury, gasping melodramatically and loving her laughter as it echoes in the open air. _

_ "I love you, Giselle." it seems that I cannot say the words enough, though they are foreign, though they are different. I know they are true, and that is all that matters. _

_ "Kathyra?" I hear a familiar voice, and it chills me to the bone. "Giselle? Oh, thank the Maker! It __**is**__ you!"_

_ Mirien bursts from the crowd and doubles over, resting her hands on her knees and breathing heavily. My entire body tenses as Giselle's eyes fire with alarm. _

_ "Mirien," my physician takes the woman's hand and helps her rise, "is everything all right?"_

_ "Giselle, where have you been?" Mirien asks, staring at me with all the fury of ignorance. "Don't you know…haven't you __**heard**__?"_

_ "I have been rather preoccupied." Giselle answers, her shoulders stiffening. _

_ "We've been looking everywhere for you." Mirien catches her breath. "The night you left, someone tried to __**kill**__ Revered Mother Dorothea!" she informs us. _

_ Giselle's eyes fire to mine and I shake my head, letting her know that the truth she has not yet asked for will come to light at a later time, when those like Mirien are not present. _

_ "I highly doubt that." Giselle's voice is careful, cautious, with a hint of fear that makes me want to strangle Mirien in front of half the populace of Val Royeaux._

_ "Her room was set on __**fire!**__" Mirien exclaims, a glint in her eyes that only exists in those who love to spread gossip. "We found her unconscious from smoke inhalation. Not to mention the burns…in any case, Giselle, Dorothea needs you. We did the best we could, but the burns were extensive, and they've become infected…not to mention that her lungs still haven't healed properly. We all have our skills but, at the end of the day…we aren't you."_

_ "Mirien…" Giselle hesitates, for I know that in her true, beautiful heart, she desires to answer any cry for aid. "…I cannot go back there. Please understand…Dorothea and I parted on bad terms."_

_ "Like hell!" the fiery physician erupts. "Your treatment was no different than any of ours, and well you know it. It's that apprentice of yours," Mirien glares at me, "shifty, no good…"_

_ "I'll thank you to refrain insulting Kathyra in my presence, __**especially**__ if you desire my aid." Giselle threatens, and her eyes glimmer with wrath. _

_ "It's not desire, Giselle, it's outright __**need**__." Mirien shudders. "The Divine __**herself**__ came to the Chantry. Can you imagine telling __**Her Holiness**__ that we are at a loss, and the most skilled among us is __**nowhere**__ to be found? You abandoned us, Giselle…and what for?"_

_**For freedom. For a home. For a life. Maker's breath, Mirien, you truly are daft!**_

_ Giselle purses her lips, and I can see the guilt weighing on her. "Go back, Mirien."_

_ "Will you come?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Giselle."_

_ "As soon as I may." Giselle answers, and my heart begins to break. _

_ Mirien rushes back through the crowd, toward the Chantry. Giselle gathers her composure and breathes deeply. _

_ "I have to do this, Kathyra." she tells me before I can even protest. "I cannot leave a woman to die in agony."_

_ "She would have done worse to you." I counter, attempting to control my wrath. _

_ "That notwithstanding…"_

_ "Do not make excuses, Giselle." I order. "If you want to go back to that hell, and back to her machinations, then let me wash my hands of this."_

_ "You cannot!" Giselle exclaims. "I __**know**__ you are the one who set that blaze, and while I am __**certain**__ that you did not intend any harm to come to Dorothea, that is what transpired. If this is a plot, I __**must**__ walk into it. If this is a trap, it __**must**__ be sprung."_

_ "Why?" I ask, confused. _

_ "Because how better to earn my freedom than aid the woman who would have had you tortured to keep me prisoner?"_

_ "How better to undo my crimes." I spit, angry and afraid. "How better to save my pathetic self once again. Go. Just go. Do what you feel you must."_

_ "Come with me." Giselle entreats. "What is happening has nothing to do with you. I __**have**__ to do this for myself…to allow forgiveness to enter my heart. Can you comprehend that?"_

_ "I am __**afraid**__ for you." I tell her, worried that this is a ruse, that the physicians of the Chantry are seeking Giselle for an entirely different reason than Mirien's tale would have us believe. _

_ "I am afraid for myself." she admits. "Please do not let us be at odds, Kathyra. I need you with me…I have…I rely on you, trickster. Please do not make me face her alone."_

_ "I…" __**I want to live as you do, to be as you are…**__ "…of course, Giselle."_

_ "Thank you, Kathyra." her hand wraps around my own, and I can feel her hesitance, her fear, and at the same time her determination and desire to do what she believes is right. _

_**Maker, protect us. **_


	43. Chapter 43

**Kathyra**

"You look contemplative." Leliana commented as she sat beside Kestrel.

The templar private rested against the wall of the cabin, cradling her companion's head in her lap, absently running her fingers through Rylie's chestnut curls.

"Simply lost in thought." Kestrel replied, her vivid eyes looking into the ever so dangerous realm of thought.

"Distract me." Leliana offered, pressing her fingers lightly against the pulse point in Rylie's neck, frowning a little, but wiping it from her features as Kestrel turned her eyes to the former bard.

"Is anger justified in a situation such as this?" Kestrel asked. "I want…I want to be furious, let my heart fill with hatred, and feel the loathing most templars have towards mages. Why, when I search for rage, can I find only pity?"

"You are in quite the predicament." Leliana smiled, not a smile of joy, but of comfort. "But it is understandable, given your unique view on the situation."

Kestrel shook her head. "I've never been close to the conflict." she whispered, mystifying me as to her meaning. She sighed. "I feel like I'm betraying her." she looked down at Rylie and closed her eyes, creasing her brow in confusion.

"Why would you feel that?" Leliana rested her hand on the private's shoulder, and once again I wondered how she could so easily offer physical comfort.

"Because I should be spitting fire and speaking as the others are speaking. Of swift retribution and the Maker's justified vengeance…when all I truly desire is to unmake my decision to join the templar order. I can't hate, Leliana. I do not seem to have it within me…not even in defense of the woman I love. Is that not a betrayal?"

"Not at all." Leliana answered. "In my experience, love never desires to change another to fit a certain mold. Love is…beyond our comprehension."

"It must be." Kestrel smiled down at Rylie. "Because I must confess I find myself baffled."

"Hard lessons learned so young." Leliana mused. "Some of our paths are more difficult than it seems they have any right to be."

"I will find my way." Kestrel said, a calm, simple statement, not proud or flush with the bravado of the young. "I always have."

"I know someone who speaks in quite the same manner." Leliana whispered, and from the light in her eyes I knew that she spoke of the warden. "Promise me one thing, Kestrel."

"What?" the templar private asked.

"Do not let your way find you alone at the end of it." Leliana smiled. "Otherwise, your dark thoughts will swallow you whole."

Kestrel nodded in understanding. "I cannot revile the mages." the conversation returned to its beginning. "And I cannot ignore the atrocities they committed. What do I do, Leliana?"

Leliana fell silent, contemplating her answer. "Remember the wrongs done, so that you will not find yourself deceived." she counseled after consideration. "And after that…forgive them."

* * *

_Giselle opens the door of the Chantry, striding in with no apprehension, her body language screaming of defiance, even as mine cowers. My single, solitary dream hangs by a thread, hovering at the razor's edge. Dorothea holds all the cards, and in this game of Wicked Grace, I fear she is calling a bluff. _

_ Mirien paces within the clinic, relief washing over her at our entrance. "Oh, thank the Maker." she whispers. "Come with me, please."_

_ She leads us up the familiar stairs, to a different room than Dorothea's chambers, and opens the door. I scan the area, looking for guards or templars, those who will spring from the shadows and wrest from me my liberty and my reason for life. There are none there but another physician of the Chantry. He looks up, his worried grey eyes lighting as he catches sight of Giselle. _

_ "Maker's blessings to you." he whispers, with a hint of reverence I have never before heard from him._

_ "Everyone excepting Kathyra," Giselle speaks, the command in her voice unmistakable, "out. I need to be able to work in peace."_

_ "No." a rasping croak from the bed. Dorothea's voice, thick with infection and smoke. "Do not dare leave me alone with her."_

_ "I think it best," Mirien worries her lower lip with her teeth, "to do as Giselle says, Mother Dorothea. You are in good hands."_

_ "Mirien, I need cool water that has been boiled, tea tree oil, a leaf of aloe, and a sleeping draft." Giselle says as the healer vacates his seat beside Dorothea's bed and allows Giselle to sit there. _

_ Quiet, he leaves the room and Mirien dashes off to gather what my physician needs. Giselle sits beside Dorothea, gazing, with impossible calm, at the woman who would have been her slave owner. I stand before the window, arms crossed, glaring at the Revered Mother. Dorothea is pale, her skin slick with sweat, her breath labored. I can read the accusations in her canny eyes, in spite of her pain and discomfort. _

_ "You have your chance now." she rasps, turning her attention to Giselle. "To cause me pain. Is that not why you have come, half-elf?" she asks as Giselle makes no move to do anything. Dorothea extends an arm swathed in bandaging. It is stained with the red of blood and the yellowish green of infection. "Do it." she orders. "Rip this from my skin and sate your lusts."_

_ Giselle locks eyes with the Revered Mother. "I have no desire to cause you pain, Dorothea." she says, forthright._

_ "You…" Dorothea gasps as she breathes too deeply, "…__**lie**__."_

_ Giselle feels the pulse point at Dorothea's wrist and frowns. "You should not over exert yourself." she advises in the cool, calm tone of the physician. "It will only speed the infection."_

_ "Why did you come?" Dorothea demands. "I let your little pet win her game," her eyes flick to me. "I would have presumed you would dance upon hearing of my demise."_

_ "Whatever accord you struck with Kathyra is between the two of you." Giselle replies. "I had nothing to do with it. As to why I have come…I took an oath, Dorothea."_

_ Giselle falls silent and Dorothea's brow, once furrowed in anger, now loosens with confusion. "No lecture, Giselle?" she asks. "No cavalier remarks on how I have forsaken my vows…"_

_ "You know your sins, as I know mine." Giselle answers, her voice soft. "Now is not the time to pick at the scabs of old grievances. This is a time of healing."_

_ "You…you make no sense. You are inhuman." Dorothea speaks, but the words are __**no**__ compliment, and Giselle understands this as well as I._

_ "You are not wrong, Dorothea." a half-smile quirks her lips. "You are not wrong."_

_ Mirien returns and sets the requisite supplies on the bedside table, withdrawing as quickly as she had entered. Giselle uncorks the sleeping draft and smells it. The heady scent of poppy pervades the room and I wince, remembering the stench of the stuff from Leron's pipe. _

_ "Drink this." Giselle holds the vial to Dorothea's lips, and the revered mother glares at her. _

_ "Why?" she demands. _

_ "So that I might keep my word." Giselle states, and her voice would sound passionless to any who did not know her. "So that you will feel no pain. So that healing can begin."_

_ "Do not dare you presume that you have achieved a higher moral standing by this action." Dorothea accuses. _

_ "I have presumed nothing about this moment." Giselle's hand tremors slightly, and I want to offer her my comfort…but I can see that she is fighting the same battle with Dorothea that I waged. _

_**That my war ended in pain and injury…I fight with blade and flame and sharp, sharp teeth. But somehow…somehow Giselle molds mercy into a battle cry, gentility into armor…and kindness into a sword. **_

_ Dorothea takes the draft from Giselle's hand and drains it, her eyes slowly unfocusing as the poppy takes hold. Giselle simply holds Dorothea's hand, letting her thumb run along the older woman's knuckles. _

_ "I forgive you, Dorothea." Giselle says, and my heart threatens to burst in my chest as I bear witness to a scene that defies all comprehension. "Rest well, Revered Mother."_

_ "You are foolish if you think this will change her mind about you." I break my silence, allowing my cynicism and knowledge of darker hearts to break free. _

_ Giselle smiles at me as she begins to unwind the bandaging from Dorothea's burns. "You are the fool here, trickster." the words are not a rebuke, but gentle, and understanding, and __**patient**__. "It is not her mind I desire to change…but her heart."_

_ "That will not…"_

_ "The heart wants what it wants, Kathyra." she whispers an oft quoted mantra. "And so often…the heart's desire contradicts every edict of the mind." her viridian eyes meet mine and they **glow**__. "The heart always desires change…because life is nothing more than change…and, at the core of us…does not every mortal want to live?"_

_ My hand goes to the scar on my right side, to the wound that should have killed me, that I at one time I __**wanted**__ to have killed me. _

_**But I lived. And I changed. And I continue…**_

_ I straighten my shoulders and let my fear fall away. "What can I do to help you?"_


	44. Chapter 44

**Kathyra**

_ "Make certain that she has someone with her at every hour of the day, to monitor her breathing." Giselle instructs Mirien as she washes her hands free of the blood and puss and dead skin from Dorothea's injuries. "I can do precious little for her lungs, but with time, they should recover fully. Make certain she does not over-exert herself. Change the bandages twice daily and keep applying the aloe until the burns heal. Also, do __**not**__ come to me again for help…all of you have been trained, you should know your work well enough by now."_

_ "Are you truly leaving, Giselle?" Mirien asks, a plaintive note in her voice. "For good?"_

_ "I am." my physician answers, emphatic, and my heart lights with joy. "I no longer have a place here, and Dorothea will mend, given enough time."_

_ "I just…" Mirien mutters, "…I wish I understood what has obviously transpired."_

_ "Don't gossip, Mirien." Giselle chides, but her tone is light. "It does not become you."_

_ "You're a cruel woman, Giselle." Mirien teases. "There is a tale here to be told and…"_

_ I rest my hand on the smaller woman's shoulder as a warning. "You should not attempt to insinuate yourself where no welcome has been shown." I caution. _

_ Mirien turns to look at me and her eyes widen as she sees the expression on my face. Severe, cold, and bloodthirsty…a look I have not worn for so very, very long. _

_ "Fine then." Mirien's voice goes cold. "But you listen here, Kathyra. You take," her eyes well with tears, "you take good care of our Giselle. I do not know the tale, but I know you stole her from here and that…well that is…"_

_ "Enough, Mirien." Giselle sounds so tired and my eyes dart to her in worry. _

_ She offers me a wan smile as we exit the Chantry and walk home in silence. The streets ring with their normal chaos, but the air around us is tight. Giselle's eyes are over-bright, her shoulders taut, her lips pursed. I want to ask if I have done something wrong, if looking at the cost of her freedom had soured its taste, but I keep my silence and my worries to myself. _

_ We find our way home as the sun sets. Giselle closes the door behind her and sags against it, looking drained of all strength. _

_ "Giselle…"_

_ "Leave me be." she whispers, but it is not a tone of command. "Just for a moment, Kathyra, I need…I need to think."_

_ "Of course." I slip up the stairway, eager to acquiesce to her wishes, no matter what they might be. _

_ I pace back and forth in the office, listening, waiting, longing for my name to be called…for anything. To assure myself that I had done no wrong in taking my action against Dorothea. There is war within my spirit as I question the battle Giselle must herself be fighting. _

_**Is she questioning that which brought her here? Does she desire freedom from the hands that shattered her chains? Does she wish to be rid of me? **_

_ The crash of broken glass jars me from my thoughts and sends me down the stairs at a run. I rush into the main room, torn to shreds by the scene before me. Giselle leans against the wall, white faced and trembling, her arms wrapped around her. Shards of glass lie on the floor, vials broken and their contents pooled on the ground. _

_ Giselle lifts her eyes to mine. "All I wanted was to kill her." she whispers. "Every moment, sitting there beside her, tending her wounds…that __**bitch**__ made my life a living hell! Every day, living on the tenuous thread of human grace, wondering when Dorothea's endless torments would earn her desire…my subjugation or self-destruction. I fought and I fought but the war never ended! I **tried**, I **tried** to do what was asked, to remain true to my calling, at every moment stifled by that...that...that petulant, pretentious cow!"_

_ I remain silent, knowing that she needs what she has given to me so many times. A listening ear, a non-judgmental voice, a validation of mattering in this cold, bitter world. I kneel down and begin to clean the glass from the floor. _

_ "I kept thinking of how easy it would be." Giselle sinks to the ground and wraps her arms about her knees. "To slip nightshade into her sleeping draft, or, or…or any number of things. Let the fucking infection take her! She __**laughed**__, Kathyra. As we walked back to the Chantry from the dungeons, she __**laughed**__, so giddy in her triumph, so assured of her power as she shoved my contract into my hands and bid me read."_

_ I set the fragments of glass aside on the table and walk to Giselle, sitting beside her, unsure of what to say. I had thought her heart so pure, so full of light, that such thoughts would never cross her mind. _

_**Do you know how much more beautiful you are…even with what you perceive as flaws?**_

_ "Why did you not?" I ask. _

_ "I do not damn well know!" Giselle flings her hands into the air, despairing. "If anyone can mask death, it is me! If anyone can weep and lie as necessary, it is __**surely**__ me! I have shaken the foundation of everything I thought of myself…"_

_ "And yet you only thought." I attempt to console her. "You did not act. You stayed true to your beliefs."_

_ "I've never wanted to kill, Kathyra." Giselle huddles into herself and weeps. _

_ "I know." I tell her, remembering the young woman with knives in her hands…the first strike of blade through flesh, the stench of blood and death…the physical illness that followed._

_ "I do not know what to do." Giselle confesses. "I feel so very fraudulent. I should want nothing but to heal, to give life. How could I have been so naïve, so fucking stupid as to think my heart above harboring hatred!?"_

_ "Giselle…if you truly harbored hatred, you would have obeyed your darker heart." I attempt to reassure her, uncertain of her reaction, almost dreading it. "You would not have healed Dorothea."_

_ "You see only the good in me, trickster." Giselle mutters. "Tell me now…tell me now what you think, now that you know evil dwells there as well."_

_ "I think nothing less of you." I give her the truth. "I love you, Giselle. And it was…it was my actions that forced you to face your darkness. If either of us should feel guilt…I am the one to blame."_

_ "No." Giselle shakes her head. "No. I did not have to go to Dorothea…in fact, you begged me not to. But I must…I must think this through, Kathyra. I fully intended to do nothing but aid her, as payment for my freedom, as a twisted sort of gratitude. Yet when I saw her, weak and fragile and utterly at my mercy." she shudders and I pull her into my arms. "How weak you must think me…whimpering like a beaten child over nothing but a desire, a whim, a thought."_

_ "You have been surrounded by the darkness of the world and never succumbed to it." I whisper against her hair. "But all of us give in. All of us fall short. It is…it is mortal nature."_

_ "I'm frightened, trickster." she confesses. "I am frightened of what I might do."_

_ "You will do the right thing…just as you did today." I console her. "Because, the truth of your heart is that it is strong, and humble, and __**kind**__. Look at me, Giselle."_

_ My physician lifts her eyes to mine, seeking something that I do not know if I can offer her. Hope. _

_ "These hands," I hold them before her, letting her see the collection of small scars, the calluses from wielding blades, "were once suited to nothing but death. And I had given up hope of putting them to any other use. You took a dark heart and returned it to the light. You took a murderer's hands and made them a healer's. Knowing this, knowing me, __**all**__ of me, how can you question the truth of yourself?"_

_ "I never wish to think such things again." she says. "But I am shaken in my spirit, Kathyra. I do not know up from down or left from right or right from wrong."_

_ "Let the world twist and turn for tonight, then." I rise and extend my hand, helping her to her feet. "It will be clearer with the morning. Trust me…the shadows create demons where there were none before. In the light of day…all will be well."_

_ "You speak with such surety." _

_ "I blame the one who taught me."_

_ Giselle narrows her eyes, but a smile quickly darts across her face. "Wench."_


	45. Chapter 45

**Kathyra**

_ I stay awake through the night, holding Giselle as she sleeps fitfully and mutters with the occasional dream. I wish that I could spare her this pain…the pain of reconciling herself with a darker heart. I was learning my own, but only because she had given the strength to face what I had become, the hope to believe it could change…that no matter the tarnish, somewhere beneath, silver still gleamed. _

_**But can I give you that same strength? **__I wonder. __**Can I offer you any consolation? I am proof…I am proof that one can emerge into the light from darkness…but how does one turn away from the lure of the shadows? Their song is sweet, and tempting…it can swallow you whole before you even realize. **_

_Giselle jerks in my arms and her eyes flash open as she begins to shiver. I pull her tighter into me, attempting to shield her from the night's cruelty. _

_ "Ka…Kathyra?" she asks, her voice hazy with the remnants of her nightmare. _

_ "I am here." I assure her. "You are safe." **You are the only one who is...in my presence. **_

_ She turns in my embrace and traces the contours of my face with her gaze. "I dreamed you were gone." she whispers, brushing my lips with the tips of her fingers. "I dreamed that I betrayed your faith in me…that I fell in your eyes and that you left to seek a brighter way and purer heart. I saw my hands mixing poisons and drinking them, but they did not kill me…for evil cannot destroy evil."_

_ "Oh, Giselle." I breathe, stricken to the core by the nightmares still hovering in her luminous eyes. "Do not let dreams torment you. They are but…"_

_ "Fears made manifest." Giselle finishes. "Or memories relived. This…these past seven days have been so surreal. I wonder when this waking dream will be torn from me."_

_ "Never." I vow. "I have only just discovered my heart, but it is there, beating strongly, and it desires nothing but to continue in this life, with you beside me."_

_ "When did you become eloquent?" she wonders. "When did your heart become so fierce?"_

_ I ponder an answer to the question, knowing that there is only one. "When I realized at last that I still had something to fight for…after so long trying to be a protector, trying and failing, I had never thought of my own life as being worth anything. But then you fought for me, first for my life and then for my soul. Life is a gift, Giselle…I realize that on a more intimate level than any healer."_

_ "Moreso than even I." Giselle tucks her head against my shoulder. "It is strange…to find myself crumbling apart after the revelation of one flaw. I cannot imagine the wars you have waged, Kathyra…did I at least aid you in some way? Please tell me you did not fight alone."_

_ I want to assuage her spirit, but the art of using words to comfort is foreign still. To beguile, yes. To deceive, yes. To threaten, yes. To seduce…oh yes. In all of those areas I possess true eloquence…but this is still new territory. _

_ "Tell me something, Giselle." I prop my head up on my hand and look down at her, tangling my fingers in her hair. "Do you know how to discern between a true gem and one made of glass?"_

_ Giselle raises her head and stares at me in confusion. "What are you about, trickster?"_

_ "Answer me." I press my lips against her forehead. "Please."_

_ "No." she shakes her head. "For being the daughter of a noble, I saw precious little of his wealth and…well…who would squander precious gems on a half-elf bastard child?"_

_ "Then I shall tell you." I whisper, remembering how I had learned the practical aspects of this particular lesson…painfully. _

_ Giselle raises her brow and waits silently for an explanation. _

_ "A __**true**__ gem," I whisper as my voice shakes with emotion, "can always be known by the flaw at its center. True beauty can only be molded through great adversity, great pressure and the fires of a thousand hells. Perfection is born through imperfection. That you subverted your instinct, that you denied your will, that you fought that battle…it is not an exposition of the flaw, but of the gem surrounding it…made all the more radiant for the trials endured. Do you understand?"_

_ I tuck my finger under her chin and lift her eyes to mine. The bright green grows even brighter as tears take hold and slip down her cheeks. "My beautiful rogue." she reaches out and traces the line of my cheekbone. "You are no stranger to dark places, dark thoughts, dark times…yet in you there is such a light. I could see it from the first…you've no idea how __**angry**__ I became that you refused to see what to me was so apparent."_

_ "I had forgotten." I tell her. "I had forgotten where light resides."_

_ "Then answer my question, and tell me true." though I can see the exhausted shadows beneath her eyes, I know she will not be satisfied by anything but my honesty. "Did you fight your war alone?"_

_ "No." I whisper. "No, Giselle. You wrested me from the comfort of my loneliness, jammed a sword into my hands…your voice inside my mind was strong enough to quell the doubts built up by years lost and alone. You held my shield, you took my hand…you taught me not to fear touch, for you proved it could be gentle. You taught me not to fear love, for you proved it could be kind."_

_ "You teach me how to feel." Giselle slips her hand beneath my shirt and begins to caress my back, sending shivers through my body. "You teach me how to want. You teach me that hope can return, with faith fulfilled." _

_ Her lips catch the soft skin of my neck and I gasp at the sensation as the edges of her teeth graze against my flesh. Fear and lust set my heart pounding, as I realize that she is asking with her body what she has never had, nor needed, words for. _

_ "Prove to me, Kathyra," she entreats, her lips soft and tempting against my ear. "Prove to me that this is not a dream."_

_**Am…am I ready? **__I question myself. __**Can I overcome this last fear…for her sake? I do not know…I do not know…I do not know how to love, Giselle. **_

_ "Tell me your desires," I say at last, attempting to face my own flaws, to pass through trial by fire, to prove to my soul a final time that beauty and healing and forgiveness did exist. _

_ Giselle takes my hand and rests it along the curve of her hip. "I want…I want __**all**__ of me to be yours, Kathyra." she lowers her head as blood rushes to her cheeks. "Will you have me?"_


	46. Chapter 46

**Kathyra**

_ My hand trembles as it rests against Giselle's warm skin. I feel the life thrumming beneath, blood and muscle and sinew. I tremble for I have spoken the language of pleasure. I have brought people near heaven with a touch…and sent them once more crashing to earth. But such is the way of the body, and thus it can be easily understood…I do not know how to speak to her with my heart, to make this a holy act. _

_ "Are you…are you certain?" the question catches against my spirit like a fisherman's hook, scraping it raw, opening the door to my own personal hell, my own abyss._

_ "More certain of this than anything before." she answers, and in her eyes there is hope, there is pleading, there is an ache that I can feel as her muscles bunch beneath her skin. _

_ "Lie back." I tell her, straining to remember the skills I need, the ease with which such actions used to come to me. _

_**This is different**__, Giselle moves from her side and her eyes shift to me, expectant, as her teeth glide across the fullness of her lower lip. __**This is a gift that is offered, not a task to be set too. There is something sacred here; and I am undeserving. **_

_ Slow, gentle, meditating as I move, I rise to my knees in the bed and take Giselle's hands in my own, pulling her into a sitting position. Moonlight streams in the window and all my breath rushes from my lungs. Her eyes are guileless, innocent…passionate and beautiful. In them, I can see her soul, the same vibrant color and hue, the color of life and prosperity. _

_ I gather my composure and lift her shirt by its hem, pulling it off with a tantalizing speed. Every inch of her alabaster skin calls to me in the most ancient of tongues, a scroll written by the hands of a god whose knowledge of beauty must be fathomless. I set her shirt gently aside, moving my eyes down her body with a languidness I have never before indulged._

_**This is pure. **__I realize. __**There is no darker intent in my heart, no agenda hidden. Here, she trusts these bloodstained hands to heal. Here…she charges me with a task I have never been given or allowed. To hold her after the fall…rebuild what I have broken. **_

_ Tears fill my eyes as I guide her back to the pillow, resting over her with a timidity I have never known. I press my lips against hers, feasting on her enthusiasm, savoring her passion, drowning in the taste of her as she gives everything in the kiss. Her lips are soft, moving in the rhythm I have set, a question and an answer all in one. Another tear falls from my eye and lands on her cheek. _

_ She gasps and raises her hand, opening her eyes, breathing slow and deep as she sees the lines of tears on my face. _

_ "Beautiful trickster," she breathes, reaching up and brushing back my hair. "Why do you weep?"_

_ I cannot answer, cannot confide in feeble words what thrums through my body like a maelstrom. Instead I speak the ancient language in a cadence I have never known. I press my lips to her neck, moving along the gentle lines of muscle, feeling her pulse beat against her skin like a drum. Sweet, soft gasps echo in my hearing as I run my hand along her side, stroke by tantalizing stroke against her smooth skin. _

_ I continue kissing her, savoring the taste of her skin, drugged by the scent of her hair, the sound of her breathing, the cadence of her heart. She trembles where my lips touch her, and her hand reaches up and tangles in my shirt, nails digging against my flesh in a primal plea._

_ I lay my lips against the skin between her breasts, feeling desire gnaw at me, attempting to turn my touch harsher, more insistent. I take a breath and slow myself, determined to give her this gift…to take her innocence and hopefully…oh so hopefully…keep her soul intact. _

_ I lay on my side, stroking the tips of my fingers over the taut skin of her abdomen. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as her skin reacts along the path of my touch. Unable to torment myself any longer, I place soft kisses upon each of her breasts, eliciting a soft moan. It is not a sound of lust, or discomfort; instead, it holds a note of contentment. _

_ I open my lips and take a nipple into my mouth, laving the sensitive skin with my tongue, allowing the gentle pressure of my teeth to torture and tantalize. Giselle goes rigid beneath me, her breathing faster, her hand threading through my hair and tangling there, deepening our connection as her moan becomes a cry. _

_ I lift my head, afraid of hurting her, locking our eyes, pressing the flat of my palm against her stomach, a reassuring touch. _

_ "Is this…is this what you want?" I ask again, determined to make this moment as perfect as I can. _

_ In answer, Giselle ghosts her fingers across my cheek, guiding me back to her breasts with the lightest of touches. I surrender to her desire, letting it dictate me, listening to the rhythm of her body, __**listening**__ as I never have before. I continue taking delight in her, wondering if she realizes that the trust she places in me, in this moment, is the greatest gift I have ever received, from her hands or any other. _

_ "Kathyra," my name emerges on a rasped breath. It tangles deep in my core, awakening desires I thought long tortured out of my own body. "Kathyra, please. I need…I need."_

_ I lazily run my fingers through the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs, feeling a smile cross my face as her hips jerk and her lips part as her breathing increases to a panting of need. Slow, tentative, I cup her with my hand, applying tender, delicate pressure across my fingertips, feeling my own arousal deepen as my skin becomes slick with the evidence of her desire. _

_ I part her with my fingertips, gently moving forth and back, restraining myself and luxuriating in the expression of wild abandon in her eyes. _

_ "Oh gods." she manages to breathe._

_ I press the tip of a single finger against her entrance, trembling, sweating with the effort of holding myself back. "Giselle," I do not recognize my own voice, low with lust and feeling and emotions deeper than any I have known. "Giselle, I…this will be painful, my darling."_

_ I kiss the hollow of her throat, feeling the muscles tense as I keep up the movement of my hand._

_ "It will hurt…so much more…" she gasps, pleading, lovely, undone, "…if you cease."_

_ I restrain my hand, moving my lips down her body, punctuating the journey with kisses, determined to make this as pleasurable for her as possible, to make any pain fleeting, any sorrow distant. At last, enraptured by the scent of her, torn asunder by her beautiful, trembling vulnerability, I close my mouth around her most sensitive nerves, making her mine with a strong, decisive pulse of my hand. _

_ Her cry rings in my ears, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, the ever blurred line between frenzy and peace. Her fingers entangle themselves in my hair as I pleasure her with the slow swirling of my tongue as I gentle my hand into a steady rhythm, feeling her walls tight around my fingers as she accepts a bloodstained hand in the most intimate embrace. _

_ Her breathing becomes ragged and her body tenses under my touch. Her wordless sighs of surprise and longing ring in my ears, sweeter than any symphony. Her taste intoxicates me as I carry her toward the edge, knowing that I bear more than just her body. That she has given me her precious heart, her unstained soul, her radiant spirit. Giselle's body goes wire tight, her muscles quivering from strain. _

_ On instinct, I curl my fingers upward and press my tongue against her sweet, stiffened ridge, feeling the rush of life against my hand as she dives over the edge, my name the sole word on her lips. I rise and lay alongside her, pulling her against me, keeping my hand in its place, allowing myself the luxury of feeling the pulse of a body killed and then reborn, cradling her as she falls from heaven._

_ "Thank you." she whispers, when speech returns. _

_ My heart breaks, hearing those words, hearing their truth…knowing that I have caused her no pain. I let my hand slide free and hold her until her body and soul accommodate the new emotions coursing through her. _

_ "I love you, Giselle." I whisper against her pointed ear, against the proof of her perfection. "And it is I…who should be grateful."_

_**Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for proving that my touch can be gentle, that I still…that I still can offer something beautiful. **_

_"Teach me." she begs. "Teach me how to speak…as you have just spoken."_

_ I press my lips to her forehead. "Not now." it is not a denial of the gifts she wishes to give, but a stronger desire to give her yet __**more**__. "Sleep, my darling. Sleep and let me guard your dreams."_

_ "I…I'm not tired." Giselle mumbles, but a yawn belies her statement and her eyelids flutter. _

_ I kiss each of them and pull her tighter against me, willing her to sleep…so that my world might make sense to me…for once again, she had remade it. _


	47. Chapter 47

**Kathyra**

"Are you certain you are not yet tired of my questions?" Kestrel asked, a note of teasing in her voice.

Leliana pinched the bridge of her nose, but it did not seem to be a natural action. It seemed to be another's gesture, executed by her body…a learned memory from another.

"No." she answered. "It seems to be the only thing keeping me awake."

"Are you certain you will not rest awhile?" Kestrel questioned, concern evident in the narrowing of her gaze as she watched Leliana. "The sun will rise soon, and you have been awake since early yesterday."

Leliana waved a dismissive hand. "I have been through much worse, believe you me."

Kestrel laughed, but it held a bitter edge. "I'm certain you have. However, let us speak of more pleasant things, shall we?"

"Pleasant things…" Leliana's sentence dies. "You said you had a question. Pray inquire, and I shall answer as best I can."

Kestrel tugged at the hem of her shirt with her delicate, long-fingered hands. "How did you know it was the right moment?" she asked. "To give yourself to the one you loved…or offer yourself, as it were?"

A flash of pain entered Leliana's eyes, and I wondered if she would refuse to answer. I knew the pain that plagued her, the memories and regrets that haunted all bards possessed of a conscience. I had never told another of my time with Giselle, keeping her memory sacred against my heart, holding to it as a lifeline, knowing that such a purity and grace did not exist anywhere else in the waking world…until now.

_Now there is another_, my dying mind torments me, _another who is before you, radiant and shining. One who is as you were, who fell prey to the same hand that damaged you…and all the more beautiful for it. Leliana, I do not want to love you. _

"There are two sides to that particular tale." Leliana answered at last. "The first I loved…Marjolaine…I did not give myself to her. She took me, left me breathless, feeling that I had no choice, and so willingly did I fall into her arms. It was…it was blissful, Kestrel. And at that time, I thought that such an action was the way of love, that choice was denied, and that I had no option but to follow where she led."

"She made the decision for you?" Kestrel pressed further.

"Yes." Leliana answered. "Every time. Until I became hers, willing to follow every order, desperate to obey every command. I grew quite skilled, learning how to offer pleasure and the careful art of submission. I learned to give…but never to receive. Such a notion was foreign to me; I hung on her every desire until she made me weak…until I begged for her reciprocation."

_How…how cruel__**. **_I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back the tears I could not afford to shed. _Marjolaine, how could you? How could you chain such a beautiful soul? How could you damage her in such a way, without remorse? How could I never find the strength to end you, sister…why did I always have to remember the beautiful child with bright eyes who stared at me with love? Why could I never hate you? _

"I was unjustly accused and tried for treason in Val Royeaux." Leliana whispered, continuing the tale. "Sent to the dungeons and tortured for a fortnight before at last making my escape. They broke me…body and soul, they broke me. And I thought myself unfit for any kind touch; I thought myself ruined."

"And Salem?" Kestrel asked, her eyes falling on Rylie's pallid countenance. "Was it the same tale retold?"

"Heavens, hells, and angels." Leliana laughed, without bitterness, without sorrow. "No. No. Salem is…another creature entirely. Kestrel…why are you asking me this?"

"Because I love her." the templar private smiled down at Rylie, and even her exhaustion could not hide the glimmer in her eyes. "But I am afraid…for I know that soon I must break my silence. Rylie is…she is many things, Leliana, but I fear," Kestrel's eyes traced the injury beneath Rylie's blood-soaked bandage, "I fear this will change her. She is pure and unscathed and now…now this scar."

"I see." Leliana's eyes welled with tears, but she did not let them fall. "When I met Salem, my heart was afraid," she continued the tale, knowing now the reason she told it. "Afraid because I could feel what lay between us, though we did not speak of it for quite some time. I kept my secrets close to me, afraid to reveal them, afraid that someone so noble and strong would revile me for the woman I was. But time and love wait for no man…yet I could not reconcile with my fears. I needed to give her something, anything, and I was more willing to trust her with my body than my heart."

"Was it…did it hurt you?" Kestrel questioned. "Did she take what you offered?"

"Yes and no." Leliana shook her head, her eyes walking backwards through time. "I came to her one night, terrified and ashamed. Somehow she knew…she knew what would happen. I removed my clothes, I spoke to her of my insecurities. She saw my scars, she looked into my eyes…and she took me into her arms and ran her hands across my skin. I have never felt such…such reverence. I trembled and I _wanted _her, I _wanted_ to feel again. I kissed her and begged for her, as I had so often for Marjolaine."

Kestrel meditated over what Leliana relayed as the former bard halted and wiped tears from her eyes. I wanted to reach out, to comfort Leliana, to tell her that I understood all too well the worthlessness, the damage of body and soul, the pain of rejection.

"What did she do?" Kestrel grasped Rylie's hand and squeezed it, but I could see that she was not acting consciously.

"I had thought she would relent. That surely someone as powerful and wilfull as Salem Cousland would take what was offered. I had no doubts as to her gentility, and I did not fear her causing me pain…but I did not expect her to deny me."

"Did she turn you away?" Kestrel wondered, confusion creasing her brow.

"No." Leliana shook her head. "She…she thanked me, thanked me for revealing what I had, for giving her that measure of trust, even though it was so much less than she had offered me. And then she held me close to her and whispered, 'Tonight, I will just love you.' I slept beside her that night, safe and sheltered in her arms, touched by hands that were content to hold me…and take nothing. She proved to me that night that she wanted my heart…that she would accept nothing less than what she was offering to me…but that she would not take anything I could not freely give. For the first time…the choice was mine."

"That is…that is beautiful." Kestrel spoke, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

_Is it possible, Giselle_, I spoke to the phantom in my spirit, _is it possible that there are others in this world capable of your manner of love? Why were Leliana and I chosen for this blessing? And why am I now to die after seeing that such love still exists? Why am I dying just as hope is reawakened? _

"She made all things beautiful again." Leliana mused. "Including me."

_I know_, the black of unconsciousness crept up on me once more and I surrendered to it. I surrendered to the sweetest memory…of when I had been healed…_not just in body…but also in soul. _


	48. Chapter 48

**Kathyra**

_ I wake to the sun kissing my face, to bright green eyes fixed on my own, a gentle smile playing over Giselle's full lips. _

_ "Good morning, my darling." she whispers, her hand reaching out to move my tangled hair from my face._

_ Remembering last night, I greet the morning and the woman I love with a smile. "How are you feeling?" I ask, seeing still the memories of ghosts in her eyes, the pain that she had begged me to spare her from yesternight._

_ "Awake as I have never been." she answers. "Alive as I have never known…and a touch sore."_

_ "I am sorry." I apologize. _

_ "Do not __**ever**__ regret what you have done for me, Kathyra." Giselle speaks in the tone I know well, the notes of iron resolve in her voice building a fortress around my heart, not where I hide, not where I cower, but where I find peace and security and shelter. "It is simply the way of these things, is it not?"_

_ "Sometimes." _

_ "And there rises the shield wall." Giselle shakes her head and smiles at me. "Have I said something wrong? Done something…pushed you too far?"_

_ "No." I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, uncertain if I can bear the questions in her eyes, and the pain in the trembling of her lips. "No, Giselle. I am…I am caught and torn between."_

_ Giselle moves across the bed and pillows her head on my breast, wrapping her arm about my waist, anchoring me in a world where all is well, a world I have fought for and found myself triumphant in. _

_ "What has you snared, trickster?" she asks. _

_ I sigh, knowing that she could trust her intuition to guide her to my answer, and be nothing but correct…and yet she wants the words, the confession, from my lips. _

_ "Fear." I reply, reaching up and tangling my hand in the luxurious tresses of her golden hair. "Last night…I was terrified."_

_ "I would not have known it." she gives me grace, and my heart hurts further as I realize that I do not have the courage to ask for what I want from her…that I am too damaged still to allow her where she has every right to go. Where, if I am honest, I desire her to be. _

_ "I wish I had something pure to give you, Giselle." I say at last, feeling my words catch and snarl around me, leaving me confused and tongue-tied and full of regret. _

_ "How differently we see the world." Giselle muses. "For what you gave to me last night…there was nothing impure there. I felt so warm, so wanted…I felt __**loved**__, Kathyra. For the first time in my life, I felt desirable. Your touch…it still resonates within me. I feel you still, all around me, a salve on my injured spirit. All I want is to be able to return that gift."_

_ My breath catches in my throat and I tense beneath her touch. "I do not know how to accept it, Giselle." I confide. "I have…no one…the body carries memories. Memories of injuries, memories of damage done. If you…if you touch me I will remember the pain, I will remember the fear, I will remember my soul being stripped, my innocence raped, my heart torn to shreds."_

_ She lifts her eyes to mine and they well with sadness._

_ "I cannot do that to you, Giselle." I tell her. "I love you too much to let you see…to let you see that pain. You deserve someone who can feel joy from your touch, crave your caress, give themselves over completely to you. Someone who is not frightened by the dark, someone who will move towards you in an intimate embrace…not one who walks away."_

_ "Is this a wound I cannot heal?" she asks, but her voice is not unkind, not accusatory. _

_ "I…" I turn my face away, "…I do not know. It…it is not you I fear, Giselle. I simply do not wish to cause you pain. You deserve better from the one you love."_

_ "Will you allow me to try, Kathyra?" she presses, lifting herself and ghosting her lips across my cheek. _

_ I meet her gaze, allowing her to see my fear, to see the hurt, broken woman who had never been given the choice. The woman who had been stolen from, devoured by a darker world, corrupted by another's evil and damaged beyond repair. _

_ "I have no wish to hurt you." I breathe. _

_ "You will not." she assures me. "I love you, trickster. I asked you once if you would allow me into your fears, and I meant it. Will you…"_

_ "I don't want you to see." I close my eyes as the tears begin, as my worst nightmares assert themselves in the waking world. _

_**I wanted…I wanted to give her something wonderful, and yet the darkness in me refuses to relent. I cannot un-live the memories. I cannot forget what was done to me…and I cannot…I cannot find within myself the strength to let go. I cannot find the strength to trust her as she trusted me. **_

_ Gentle, she presses her lips to my quivering eyelids. "I see already, Kathyra." she whispers. "I am bearing witness to your pain, and I know…I know if you will allow it, I can…"_

_ "You cannot heal this, Giselle." I give into despair. "You cannot undo what has been done. I'm sorry, love, I am…"_

_ "No." her fingertips caress my face and for the first time in months, I flinch. "Kathyra, please, let me…"_

_ "I won't see you injured fighting a battle that cannot be won." I tell her, rising and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, turning my back to her. "You're too damn beautiful, Giselle. Too damn beautiful to throw your life and your heart away for someone like me."_

_ "Kathyra, you're shaking." I can feel her hand hovering above my shoulder, a respect for the barriers I have set back in place. "What can..."_

_ "Nothing." I sink further into my abyss. "You can do nothing. This is…this is one battle I do not have the strength to fight. You should have listened to me, Giselle."_

_ "I __**am**__ listening, you stubborn fool." Giselle's voice becomes heated. "And not to your words, because you are __**lying**__, to me and yourself. I am listening to a heart that wants a home. A heart that forsook its fear and gave to me something so precious and beautiful I tremble still from the force of it! Gods damn it, Kathyra, why won't you even let me try!?"_

_ "Because you will fail." I tell her, standing, fully clothed as I had been last night. "As I have failed you."_

_ "You cannot decide for me the battles I choose." Giselle stands, pulling the sheet from the bed and covering herself with it. "You gave me heaven, Kathyra. Every dream substantiated, every wish and want fulfilled. Why then do you choose hell for yourself?"_

_ "It was chosen __**for me**__!" I raise my voice, louder than I desire. "And you should not have to descend there to drag me out!"_

_ "I fucking __**want **__to!" her volume matches mine. _

_ "I do not care!" I shout, lowering my voice as I see the fear in her eyes. Fear of the woman she has ignored…the murderer, the thief…the trickster. I reach out and cup her cheek. "Do not fight for me, Giselle. Take what I can give but please…please do not ask this of me."_

_ Tears fill her eyes and spill over, even as she turns into my caress and presses my hand against her. "You are cruel, Kathyra."_

_ "Yes." my voice trembles, but I cannot lie, not to her. "I am."_


	49. Chapter 49

**Kathyra**

_ An uneasy silence hangs over the house. It has not moved for a month, not since that night. I sit in the clinic, preparing herbs to be hung and dried, watching Giselle out of the corner of my eye…wishing that she could be cold to me. I have borne the pain of rejection before. I have carried the weight of another's hatred. _

_**But she does not stray**__, I lose focus on my task and stare at her, wondering how she can still bear to remain by my side. __**She does not hesitate to touch me, to brush her lips against my cheek. Even though I have taken to spending my nights in the clinic, away from her…she still pursues. **_

_ I shudder in the silence, knowing it is the burden I have forced upon us, knowing that the fault is mine. At night I agonize, remembering her warmth alongside mine. I dream of her hands…but the dreams fade to nightmares of a crueler touch, a harsher touch, a brutality that has no other name but evil. _

_ Giselle feels my eyes on her and turns, offering me a soft smile. She has remained unchanged, speaking to me as she always has, but in her touch there lies an undercurrent of regret and ferocity, as though she can will my change. I wonder if, once again, she sees in me a strength I do not believe I possess. A strength to rise above the horrors of my past. _

_ "You have riddles in your eyes again, my love." she tilts her head and the sun from the window gleams off of her hair. "Care to enlighten an inquiring mind?"_

_ I stare down at the bundles of herbs and sigh. "I keep feeling as though I should offer my regrets." I admit, idly running my fingers through the leaves of fragrant lavender. "As if I have words to somehow set things aright."_

_ "Kathyra," Giselle places her hand over my restless one, stilling it, "I do not know how to convince you that nothing you have done requires regret, or the myriad apologetics which are all you can seem to offer me lately. You are still wounded," she rests her hand over my heart, "here. And it is the unseen wounds that take the longest to heal."_

_ "I just do not see…I do not see how you believe you can help me." I admit, feeling my chest cave in as I speak before thinking, tell her that she is a failure, that she is not enough to bring me out of my darkness._

_ "I cannot help you, Kathyra." Giselle answers and I lift my eyes to hers, shocked._

_ "But…you said…"_

_ "I cannot heal you." she shakes her head. "I do not have that power, nor that ability. But __**love**__ does, my darling. I will never ask you to trust me, because I am mortal, and flawed, and damaged in my own right. I ask you to trust the love in my heart…as I trusted the love in yours."_

_ Her words pierce my soul and I lock my eyes with hers, still lacking understanding, needing definition. I open my lips to inquire further when the door bursts open. A young elven man, soaked with sweat, staggers into the room, carrying a woman heavy with child. Blood stains her robes and spatters onto the floor. _

_ "Are you Giselle?" he asks, eyes flaring from me to my physician. _

_ "I am." Giselle rushes forward and leads the man to a bed, helping him situate the woman. Giselle props her up with pillows and looks to me. _

_ "Kathyra, boiling water and towels." she orders, examining her patient's pupils and helping to make her as comfortable as possible. _

_ The cry of a woman in labor echoes through the main room as I go to the kitchen and light a fire beneath the pot we always keep filled. I grab a pile of towels and hurry into the main room, listening to the man speak. _

_ "I am Matthias." he introduces himself as he kneels beside the woman and takes her hand. "This is my wife, Areya."_

_ "How long has she been in labor?" Giselle asks, running her hands over Areya's womb, feeling the contractions, counting silently to measure the time between them. _

_ "Since this morning." Matthias offers his wife an encouraging smile. "The alienage midwife had been called away. Her apprentice came to help but…but something is wrong, something beyond her ken. The alienage Elder spoke highly of you…he said you would help us…"_

_ "And so I shall." Giselle states, her lips pursed in a thin line._

_ Gently, she spreads Areya's thighs and examines her. The scent of blood fills the room and Areya screams as her body is racked by another contraction. Matthias pales as his wife squeezes his hand until her knuckles are white. _

_ "There's too much blood," Giselle whispers to me so that Matthias cannot hear. "And she's fully dilated…"_

_ "The midwife assured us the baby was…was in the proper place." Matthias' voice grows desperate, his eyes burning with love as he gently wipes sweat from Areya's brow. "Please help her." he whispers. "She's in so much pain."_

_ "Keep strong, little one." Giselle speaks to the unborn child, the new life soon to enter this world. "Kathyra, I need a tincture of blue cohosh and trillium. Also, the salve with valerian root." _

_ I dash to the shelves as Giselle continues her examination, followed by the sound of Areya's shrieking. I wince at the pain in her voice, trembling at the thought of bringing a child into this world. I find what Giselle needs and return to her. My physician stands and wipes her bloody hands on her shirt. She uncorks the vial and smells the contents, nodding to me. _

_ "Have her drink it." she orders, turning to Matthias and handing him the salve. "The herbs will ease her pain and speed her labor. This will ease the tension in her back. Rub it into the skin, but be gentle."_

_ "Wha…what's wrong?" the young elf's voice trembles. _

_ "Your child's head is turned." she tells him. "Do not worry, Matthias. Help your wife, and I will help your child."_

_ The serenity shining from her stuns me, and I fall in love with her again, with her strength, her passion, her gift for healing. I sit beside Areya, wrapping my arm around her shoulders to support her. _

_ "Drink." I lift the vial to her lips, attempting to sound encouraging, knowing that she fears me…for I am human. _

_ Her wide, terrified eyes flash to her husband, who nods. "Please, love." he begs her. "The Elder said we would come to no harm here. We have to trust them."_

_ Areya's brow creases in pain, but she accepts the draught. I help keep her in a seated position as Matthias begins to rub the salve into the taut, beleaguered muscles of her back. She relaxes in my arms, but I know it is not the medicine. It is the touch of the man she loves, the man she trusts…the man whose child she is trying so desperately to bring into the world. _

_ Giselle re-enters the room, carrying the steaming kettle of water. She hastily washes her hands, ignoring the heat. She tosses her hair aside, revealing the tip of a pointed ear and my heart beats faster in my chest with the memory of running my lips along its perfect edge, hearing the sounds of pleasure my touch elicited. _

_ "Kathyra, keep her still." she commands, looking into the young woman's frantic eyes. "Areya, can you hear me?"_

_ The exhausted woman nods and bites her lip as another contraction takes hold._

_ "Good." Giselle smiles, purity, light, ferocity. "Your baby is strong, and very stubborn. I am going to have to offer some encouragement. This will hurt, but I want you to breathe through it and try not to push until I tell you to. Can you do that for me?"_

_ Areya nods again, too exhausted and in pain to speak. I hold her secure against my body as Giselle kneels between her legs. Gentle, but sure, Giselle inserts her hand and Areya screams at the new intrusion, shaking as she attempts to control the wishes of her body. Tears gleam in Matthias' eyes as he watches, helpless to do anything to ease his wife's pain. _

_ "Come now, little one." Giselle speaks to the unborn child. "There is a bright new world awaiting you. No time to be shy."_

_ The moment seems to take forever, but at last Giselle smiles and withdraws her hand and arm, covered from fingertip to elbow in blood. _

_ "Push, Areya." she encourages, not minding the mess and the gore. _

_ The young mother in my arms seems to go limp, but there is such determination in her eyes that it breaks my heart. Her body strains with the effort and she screams in agony, but Giselle is smiling. _

_ "Soon, Areya, very soon, and you will be able to greet your child." she promises. "Push again, once more."_

_ "Can't." Areya gasps, the first word she has spoken. _

_ "Yes, you can." Giselle speaks, and there is steel in her voice, but also hope. "Once more, and that is all."_

_ Areya pushes herself against my support, grits her teeth, and forces her body to its limits. Giselle smiles and reaches between her legs, drawing forth a newborn girl. New screams rack the air, but not screams of pain…those of life, from an infant's bawling lungs. _

_ I relinquish Areya into Matthias' waiting arms and kneel beside Giselle, unfolding a soft blanket. She places the baby in my arms and I am in awe of her newness and perfection. Fragile, perfect hands are balled into resistant fists as she cries in my arms. I run my finger along the points of her tiny ears, enamored by the sight. Giselle pulls a sharp blade from her belt and cuts the cord that tethers mother to child, then soaks a cloth in the now tepid water and begins to wash the blood and slime from the baby's face. _

_ "Here." she reaches out and takes the babe from me, settling her into Areya's arms, against her breast. "Welcome to the world, little one."_

_ Areya sags back against the pillows, but the expression on her face is one of absolute joy, a joy I cannot understand, given the pain I witnessed not moments ago. Matthias stares at his wife and child, struck dumb and in awe as he witnesses the creation of their union. _

_ "She…she's so beautiful." he gasps. _

_ "Kathyra," Giselle tears my eyes from the heart-warming, awe inspiring tableau. "I need leaves of shepherd's purse. Now."_

_ "What?" Matthias asks, looking from his wife to Giselle in worry. "Is everything all right? Is something wrong?"_

_ Giselle smiles, an expression that can calm even the most frantic heart. "The strain on her body caused a tear." she informs him, taking the herbs from my hand and kneeling once more. "Not a large one, thank the Creators, but these herbs will aid in stopping the blood loss. Take your child, Matthias. Areya needs to rest now."_

_ Matthias lifts the baby in his arms and cradles his daughter against his chest as Giselle applies a poultice to the wound. I watch in awe as my physician cleans the blood from Areya's body with great care and reverence. _

_ "Kathyra," she speaks in an exhausted whisper, wiping sweat from her brow and leaving a bloody streak, making her look like a feral elven warrior of ancient tales. "Will you take her to another bed?" she looks to Matthias. "You are welcome to remain here for the time she will need to recover. I want to make certain that her bleeding does not worsen, and it will be quite some time before she is well enough to travel."_

_ "Thank you, madame physician." Matthias speaks, gratitude evident in his voice. _

_ I cradle the exhausted woman in my arms, lifting her and placing her onto another of the small beds in the clinic, covering her with warm blankets. Giselle busies herself stripping the soiled sheets from the bed and cleaning away the afterbirth. _

_ "Please start a fire." she speaks, barely above a whisper, nodding towards the hearth in the main room. "She needs to be kept warm."_

_ I obey immediately, reeling from the sacredness of what I have witnessed. Never before have I seen a child brought into the world, and the emotions coursing through me are unfamiliar. Hope. Peace. An overwhelming sense that all is somehow __**right**__ with the world. _

_ I kindle the flames, smiling as they burn higher and brighter, infusing the room with warmth. Matthias sits beside his wife, cradling his daughter in one arm and stroking Areya's hair with his free hand. I walk to the kitchen and wash my hands, smiling at Giselle as she joins me. _

_ I take a cloth and soak it, then gently clean the dried blood from my physician's forehead. She smiles at me, for this is the first time I have freely offered her my touch in a month's time. We stand in the doorway, side by side, watching the new family. _

_ Tears run down Matthias' cheeks and I read the language of his body, finding myself shaken by what is revealed. As ever I have done, I look to Giselle for answers. _

_ "Those are not tears of joy." I tell her. _

_ "No." she agrees. "They are not."_

_ "Why…why the sorrow?"_

_ "Because his daughter will know his life." she whispers. "She has been brought into this world a slave, with no hope of freedom and no hope of escape. All elven men weep for their daughters and sons, Kathyra…there is so little hope to offer them."_

_ My heart grieves but questions still gnaw at me, begging to be asked, __**needing**__ to be answered. "Then why…" I wave my hand in an abstract gesture, "…why do…why have…why this?"_

_ Giselle smiles and reaches out, threading her hand through mine. "Love, Kathyra." she answers. "It is love that creates. It is love that hopes for a brighter future. It is love that pushes forward the desire for life. Even in the darkness, love perseveres. Look at Matthias and Areya…see their love made manifest, see their child. She will grow up with the strength to face life and all of its myriad trials and difficulties…for she is born of love and made of love."_

_ There are tears in my eyes now, tears from the thoughts that linger just beyond my reach. But I want to take hold of them, I want to understand…I want to know of what Giselle speaks, even if comprehension has not yet come. _

_ "I have…I have much to think about." I whisper. _

_ Giselle squeezes my hand, imparting strength and caring…and __**love**__. "Take all the time you need, my darling. Take all the time you need."_


	50. Chapter 50

**Kathyra**

_ "I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for us." Matthias smiles, running his hand through his daughter's downy blond hair. "Had you not been here…"_

_ "It was my pleasure." Giselle smiles and places a kiss on the baby's forehead. "Dream high, little one." she whispers. "All the stars are yours."_

_ Areya smiles and wraps an arm around her husband for support. She is still pale and tired, but well enough to continue recuperating in the comfort of her home. "Thank you, for everything." she smiles at me, shy. "I had no notion that humans could be so…kind."_

_ "Go in good health." I say, feeling at a loss for words. _

_ The two and their beautiful child have remained with us for the last fortnight. I will miss them, and I fear for the child. Giselle's statement has haunted me, the thoughts of being born into slavery eating away at the dark place in my heart, causing me grief that I do not understand, for all this child seems to bring is joy. _

_ "Have you settled on a name?" Giselle asks, holding out a packet of herbs to Areya, medicines that will help her regain her strength and health. _

_ "Yes." Areya smiles and looks down at her baby, her eye shining with love. "Her name is Gisyra, after the two women who brought her into this world."_

_ My physician's eyes line with tears, and my jaw drops with shock. I have lived a life in ignominy, in shadows, the sort of woman that mothers warned their children away from…not named them after. _

_ "Take care of yourselves." Giselle orders them. "I will visit in a fortnight to see how the both of you are doing, if you do not mind."_

_ Matthias nods. "We would be grateful."_

_ He guides his wife over the threshold and we watch them return to the alienage, to the difficulty of their lives. Giselle smiles, but there is a hint of sorrow in it. _

_ "I will miss that child." she whispers. _

_ I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back against me, offering what little comfort I can. "Do you desire a child of your own, Giselle?"_

_ "Yes." she answers. "No. Any child of mine would be of mixed blood and…given my life…I would not afflict my offspring with such a curse."_

_ "I am sorry." I pull her tighter, hearing what she does not say, the echoes of loneliness in her heart that linger still. "And it is a shame. I can imagine no finer mother."_

_ "My mother was a wonderful woman." Giselle speaks of her past. "Caring. Kind. Subtle, as I have never learned to be. I am afraid I inherited her healer's heart and my father's sharp tongue. At times it is the most difficult of combinations. Forgive me, Kathyra, if my directness has ever hurt you."_

_ "You need apologize for nothing." I feel guilty, for I do not deserve her kindness. I have denied her the sole thing that she desires, and still she finds it within herself to treat me with tenderness. "You have forced my eyes open, made me witness unpleasant truths, delve into dark thoughts…but only for my benefit."_

_ "Or perhaps mine." she shakes her head. "I am afraid that my love is selfish, Kathyra. I keep worrying that I have pushed you too hard or too far, that I have broken something and cannot now repair it."_

_ "No." I tell her. "No. I was broken long before this."_

_ "There are so many questions I want to ask you…but I am afraid that you would only pull further away from me. This distance between us, Kathyra it…it is killing me. Ancient gods, there are times I just want to shake you and force from you the answers I desire but I…I love you too much. But I __**miss**__ you in equal measure. What can I do, Kathyra?" she asks. "I cannot stop wanting you, and I cannot stop loving you, but it seems you would have me walk away and I __**cannot! Help**__ me, Kathyra. Tell me what you __**want.**__"_

_ I bite my lip, struggling to find a response. "I want…I want to not be trapped in this body. I want these memories vanquished. I want what I cannot have, Giselle. I want my innocence back."_

_ She sighs, seeming defeated. "I cannot give you that."_

_ "No one can." I whisper, scrambling to find a way to alleviate her guilt. "How you have remained so understanding is beyond me, Giselle."_

_ "Yes, well it is beyond me too, so it must be the madness of love itself." she laughs and shakes her head. With a tentative hand, she reaches out and caresses my cheek. "I miss you, trickster. I miss your heart. I miss your arms around me when we sleep. Forgive me my selfishness. Forgive me for wanting what you cannot offer."_

_ "I love you for wanting it." my honesty frightens me. "Maker's blood, that makes no sense."_

_ "And yet I understand." her eyes are shining, and I drown in them. "But somehow I feel guilty. I opened a door you could not walk through. Somehow I've left you behind, and such a thing was never my intention."_

_ "I am always left behind, Giselle." I tell her. "It's all right."_

_ "It bloody well is not!" she exclaims, but there is no anger in her voice. "Have you any comprehension of my __**grief**__ for you? Born into freedom and forced into slavery."_

_ "Those in slavery have more hope than I do." I shake my head, thinking of Areya, Matthias, and little Gisyra. "Hope enough to bring beauty and innocence in the world."_

_ "And how my heart __**burns**__ against those who stole yours from you." Giselle shudders visibly. "But what good is fire if it cannot warm or purify?" she slumps down on the edge of a bed and buries her head in her hands, looking so forlorn and hopeless that my heart cracks anew. _

_ I sit beside her and take her hand. "It serves as a light to guide the lost." I tell her. _

_ "But it cannot move towards the one that needs it most." Giselle rests her head on my shoulder. "Will you find your way back to me, Kathyra?"_

_**Fires die. They go dark, lack of fuel, lack of air…this is killing her. But how can I open this heart full of pain? How can I inflict my tragedies on her, place such a burden on her shoulders? Which is more cruel…to open my heart and soul, or to let the fire that freed me from darkness die out? **_

_ "I will try." I promise her, terrified of losing the one radiant star in my night sky. If there were those strong enough to bring an unsullied soul into the world, knowing its pain, knowing its darkness, then perhaps I could find the strength to take one step towards the light. "You told me you had questions."_

_ "I do." she nods. "A physician's questions…and a lover's. If I ask them, will you answer?"_

_ "As much as I am able." I give her all that I can, dreading her next words even though I know I need them. _

_ Giselle sits upright and looks me in the eye. "How were you hurt, Kathyra? No," she raises a hand, forestalling me, "I do not want the explicit physical details. I have…I have treated victims of what you endured. I know of the physical damage. Tell me how your soul was hurt."_

_ I struggle, thinking of how to preface this, of how to lay bare my soul. "When I…when you…when we…made love…what did you feel?"_

_ A shy smile flits across her lips and her cheeks flush to a dusty rose. "Cherished." her voice is low. "Cared for. Worthy, Kathyra, and so, so loved."_

_ I nod, unwilling to acknowledge how my heart leapt at her words. "I have…I have never made love, Giselle. I have," the tears come to my eyes, unbidden, the blood of my spirit as the wounds there tear open afresh. "I was used. And those who used me took their pleasure and released…they released their darkness, their anger, their cruelty...flooding me with it. An act so intimate, where love is meant to be given and received, it left me hollow, and when I struggled to find something to fill the void left inside, all I could find was fear. Fear that if I ever opened myself in such a way, that I would find nothing and be worthy of nothing but the evil in men's hearts."_

_ "Was it only men who harmed you this way?" she asks. _

_ "No." I wipe tears from my eyes. "No. Women as well."_

_ "Are you afraid that you will find the same things from me, Kathyra?" Giselle begs me for the truth. "That I will use you for my own ends, leave you hollow and full of fear?"_

_ "No." I assure her. "But I am afraid…that if I open myself to you…that you will find their evil still there…and that it will hurt you and make you…make you leave."_

_ She rests her hand on my thigh. "Thank you, Kathyra." she tells me. _

_ "You have…you have nothing more to ask?" I wonder, feeling in awe of the lightness left behind by these simple confessions. _

_ "I have answers now." she replies, confidence gleaming in her heavenly eyes. "When you find it within yourself to want them, you know where I will be."_

_ She rises and I take her hand, baffled. "Where are you going?"_

_ "To give you time to think." she answers, turning to look at me. "I love you, Kathyra."_

_ "I…I love you too."_

_ "Beautiful bard." she tucks my hair behind my ear and presses her lips to my forehead. "We will make it through this, I promise you."_

_ She turns and leaves the house, granting me a time in peace, alone with my thoughts. Smiling, I stare at the door. "I believe you, Giselle. I believe."_


	51. Chapter 51

**Kathyra**

_ I lie on one of the small beds in the clinic, staring at the moon in the sky, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position. Sleep is elusive and my skin feels hot and tight, as though it no longer belongs to me, as though a stranger's heart beats within its shell. _

_**I have answers now**__, Giselle's words from this morning whisper against my ears, tormenting, tantalizing. __**How, **__I wonder, __**how is it that you have answers when I have sought endlessly and discovered nothing? Has love opened your eyes in ways it leaves me blind, Giselle? **_

_ I rise from the bed and begin pacing back and forth beneath the moon, fingers clenching and unclenching, my gut twisting and tightening against my will, wondering…wondering…questioning myself and finding __**nothing!**__ At last, weary of the world and weary of myself and my endless inquiries that have nothing at their end…I find my way to the stairs, climbing them, hoping that some resolve awaits me at the end. _

_ Giselle sits on the bed, combing her hair. Firelight gleams off of the luxurious golden strands and I stand in the doorway, arrested by the sight. The delicacy of her fingers, the shadows as they play over her alabaster skin. Her eyes gleam in the dark of night, another marker of her elven heritage, something I have always found beautiful. _

_ "Gi…Giselle." my voice catches in my throat, but she turns to me, and there is a smile on her lips and prayers in her eyes._

_ "Come here, my love." she gestures to the area beside her and I move forward like a woman possessed, unable to control my own movements. _

_ "I…I want…I want answers, Giselle." I tell her, sitting beside her, feeling her warmth next to mine. "Can you…will you help me? Please."_

_ "Of course." I hear the hope in her voice and it catches around my heart, pulling it tight into a warm embrace. _

_ She rises and stands in front of me, illuminated by the glow of the flames. Without hesitation, she lifts her nightgown and shrugs it off of her body, leaving me breathless as I gaze upon the landscape of her beauty, the delicacy of her structure, the depth of her curves. _

_ "Giselle…what are…"_

_ "Hush, love." she stands before me and presses a finger against my lips, kneeling down and looking me in the eye. "This is my gift to you, Kathyra. Look at me, see that I am vulnerable, see that I am yours. This time is yours; I am yours to command. Do you understand, my darling?"_

_ "I…" I gasp as her fingertips brush my cheek, "I…I think so."_

_ "May I see you, Kathyra?" she asks, relinquishing all control into my hands, allowing her every action to be dictated by my wishes. "You are so beautiful, trickster. Please let me see you."_

_ "Do you truly," I struggle for breath, for words, for understanding, "do you truly find me beautiful?"_

_ "Yes." she smiles. "From the moment I saw you."_

_ "Even after…everything?"_

_ "Even so." she answers, keeping her hands away, allowing me something I have never before known. Full authority, no expectations, no demands. _

_ Ill at ease, hesitant, I pull my shirt over my head and set it aside on the floor, covering myself with my arms, feeling somehow foolish. I know that she has seen all of me before, naked, bared, and bleeding, but on this night it is different. There are things between us that were not there in those times. _

_ Giselle sits behind me and I feel her nearness, her warmth, both in body and in spirit. She leans in close. "May I touch you, Kathyra?" she asks. _

_ "Please be gentle." I beg, feeling myself begin to shake. _

_ "Tell me if this becomes too much." she offers once again the beautiful chance to cease, to escape, somehow knowing that allowing me my freedom in this will only endear her to me all the more. Will only push me forward into her arms. _

_ Tenderly, she feathers her fingers across my back, sending shivers down my spine and ice into my veins. I tremble as she brushes her skin against mine, lightly pressing her lips upon the back of my neck, stopping as her hands detect an irregularity in my flesh, small strands of stippled scar tissue, inflicted so long ago they can scarcely be seen. _

_ "What happened here?" she whispers. "Can you tell me?"_

_ The shame of the memory overwhelms me and I shudder visibly. "A…a wealthy Orlesian merchant. Leron owed her many favors and she…she took a liking to me. She had a…a peculiar fondness for whips, and a warped taste for blood."_

_ "Heavens, hells, and angels." Giselle rests her head against my back, the silk of her hair feeling heavenly and warm, like a blanket of starlight. _

_ "I was currency, Giselle." I breathe, basking in her touch as my mind revisited another. "Bartered and sold and sent home bleeding, bitten, bruised, all to satisfy the deranged whims of one too wealthy to be resisted."_

_ Giselle runs her fingers over the scars again, her touch eliciting pleasure and comfort rather than pain. "Did no one tend your wounds?" she asks. _

_ "No." I shake my head. "I refused to let Marjolaine see what…what had become of me. No one else cared."_

_ "I care." she assures me. "I cannot convey in words…"_

_ She lays her lips against the scars, gentle kisses, caring hands, wondrous touch, accepting the pain of the moments I endured, imparting her caring in a language that transcended words. _

_ "Lie down, my love." she urges, and I rest on the softness of the mattress as her fingertips continue roving over me, warm and bright and hopeful. _

_ "Lock this moment in your mind." she whispers. "Do you feel safe here, with me, like this?"_

_ The motion of her hand becomes a lullaby. "Yes." I answer. "I feel…safe with you…I always have."_

_ "What do you want, Kathyra?" she places the moment between us back into my hands. "Anything you need, anything you desire, I am yours."_

_ I turn around and look at her, running my fingers lightly down her side, remembering the gift of her body, the precious, precious trust she placed in my hands. "Why are you doing this for me?"_

_ "In hopes to replace your tragedies with beauty, Kathyra." she answers. "So that I make certain to take nothing but what I am offered. Is this…is this all right with you?"_

_ "C…Can I tell you, Giselle?" I ask. "Can we simply…speak?"_

_ "Yes, of course." she smiles, pulling me close, resting her hand on my hip, anchoring me in her touch._

_ I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and begin to bleed the wounds in my spirit clean…feeling, at last, safe enough to do so._


	52. Chapter 52

**Kathyra**

_ I smile at the woman across from me as the sun begins to peer in the window. Both of us wear lines of the tears that have journeyed from the darkest center of the heart and out into the light. My spirit feels as though it is barely there, no longer weighed down by the burdens of secrets kept and times forgotten. There is a hollow ache in my soul, a sweet, sharp pain, as though speaking to Giselle has debrided the wounds there, prying out the infection allowed to fester over years of silence and fear. _

_ "This is it." I confess, my voice hoarse with the hours of speaking, the sobs that had racked my body and left me worn. "I have given you everything, Giselle. I have nothing left."_

_ She smiles, reaching out and running her hand down my arm, her fingers lingering over the defined muscle. "What are you feeling," she wonders, "now? In this moment? Tell me."_

_ "Empty." I tell her. "Hollow. Void. I have held onto that pain for so long…I feel naked without it."_

_ "Thank you." she brushes my hair out of my face. "Thank you for trusting me with this."_

_ She leans in close and presses her lips against mine. I mold myself to the kiss, into the taste of her, citrus and cinnamon, all that is clear and bright. I expect her to break free, to end the moment, but her hand threads in my hair and she pulls me tighter against her, running the tip of her tongue across my lips, begging entrance. _

_ I open my mouth and begin the tentative dance, frightened of the heat building within my body as she does not cease our connection, pulling her lips away, keeping her hands on my skin, anchoring me in her warmth and safety. _

_ "Giselle…what…" I ask as her hand rests on my side, fingers curling beneath my breast, sending shockwaves and sparks down and through me. "What are you doing?" the question leaves me in a rush. _

_ "Giving back." she whispers. "Trust me." she begs. "Open your eyes."_

_ I open my eyes and gaze at her, naked and lovely, painted in the golden morning light. There is nothing but brightness in her eyes, nothing but desire and beauty, and I tremble from the force of it. _

_ "Once you told me," she speaks, punctuating her words with kisses against my neck, "that shadows create their own darkness. Here, in the harsh light of day, Kathyra, trust me. Please. I will not harm you, I swear it."_

_**She swore to me the same vow…when first I woke from Marjolaine's attack. And she has done nothing but prove those words to me, again and again and again…but I have given her nothing but all of my pain, all of my suffering and anguish. What else has she to offer me in return?**_

_"Beautiful heart." she presses her lips to my left breast, pillowing her head there and listening to the thrum of blood through my veins. _

_ She reaches down and pulls my hand to her lips, running her fingers across the calluses on my palm. Fire ripples through me from the delicacy of her touch and my body tenses in response. Immediately her hand roves over the taut muscles, speaking a language of intimacy that I have never heard, soothing me without words, freeing the wire tight tension. _

_ "Beautiful hands." she breathes. _

_ "Giselle…I do not…I don't understand. What is happening?"_

_ "Desire, my love." she answers, as sure as she has ever been. "Look at me." _

_ I meet her eyes, falling into the deep pools of green that have held me captive from the first. _

_ "Put your hands on me." she says, and I comply, feeling helpless to do anything else, but, simultaneously, __**wanting**__ to do nothing else. _

_ "See?" she questions, grazing my lips again. "Your hands are unbound. Your body is free. What do you want?"_

_ "You." I gasp, pulling her on top of me, kissing her with a ferocity I did not know I had within me. _

_ In the light of day, I can see her so clearly, so clearly that all else fades. The hollow places in my soul cry out for something else, something new, begging to be filled, and not knowing what she offers, but wanting it regardless. Wanting what she spoke of, what she had always spoken of…beautiful things. Words of wisdom. Words of hope. Words of life and living that pulled a dying girl from the gutter of the city streets, from the brokenness of a past steeped in blood. _

_ Her lips travel down my neck, her teeth grazing against my skin, not harsh, but teasing. A pit of hot coals builds deep within me and I ache for more of her beauty. Her lips close over the puckered flesh of my rigid nipple and I cry out, anguish and ecstasy, arching my body beneath her as she tugs at the hem of my trousers. I raise my hips and let the clothing come free, joining her in a complete nakedness, a complete union. _

_ Her fingernails rake the skin of my inner thigh, light, without pain, as she moves her lips to my opposite breast, imparting the same tenderness. Breath comes short and harsh and fast and sweat breaks out on my skin as I feel her fingertips softly whisper over the hair between my legs. _

_ She lifts her head. "Tell me your desires, my love." she says. "What do you want? What do you need?"_

_ "I…I do not know." I gasp as her fingers move lower still. _

_ Giselle smiles as she lifts her hand and paints her lips with the evidence of my desire. She leans forward and kisses me, letting me taste, letting my mind see and understand the feelings I cannot convey with words. Offering me surety once again. _

_ "I look at you," she whispers, "and I find nothing but beauty." _

_ Gentle, she enters me, lingering for a moment as my entire body goes rigid, expecting harshness, expecting pain, expecting to find some remnant of the agony I had poured into her soul for surely, __**surely**__ she cannot take such a thing within herself without returning it in equal measure. _

_ "Look at me, my darling." she urges, beginning to move her fingers in a flowing, tantalizing rhythm. "Look into my eyes."_

_ I gaze at her, and find her face aglow, her lips curved in a gentle smile, her eyes __**gleaming**__. "Before you," she distracts my mind, letting my body take over, letting me __**feel**__ on every level of perception, "I thought myself content. I thought myself strong enough. A lone warrior, fighting her own battles, knowing no need, knowing no lack of anything. Oh, how wrong I was."_

_ "Giselle," I reach out and cup her cheek, gasping as she curls her fingers up, touching me intimately, offering only pleasure and kindness and warmth. _

_ "I wanted to save you, trickster." tears fill her eyes. "I never thought…that it was I…who needed saving."_

_ "I did…"_

_ "Everything for me." her pace increases and I pitch forward, unable to control my reactions, amazed that no fear blankets me, that no pain follows from her touch. _

_ "You gave more purpose to my calling than I thought possible." she whispers against my ear. "You looked upon a woman of mixed blood and saw nothing but my soul and my spirit and you…you opened your heart to me."_

_ A strange sensation takes over as Giselle leads me to the edge of a precipice that I have only ever guided others towards. The muscles of my legs begin to tremble, my back spasms in the same sweet rhythm of her hand. _

_ "So let me give you this." she offers. "Let me take your pain, and give you what you have given me, though you knew it not." her strokes slow, powerful, deep, intense. "You fulfill me, my darling." _

_ There are tears in my eyes now as she withdraws, leaving me nearly empty, desperate, shaking and helpless to do anything but meet the burning emotion in her eyes. _

_ "I love you, Kathyra."_

_ A single thrust of her hand and I fall, overwhelmed as my vision goes dark, as I begin to sink towards the hollows in my spirit and soul, expecting the embrace of pain, the cushion of fear and finding…finding only light. Giselle's love envelops me and surrounds me, opening eyes blinded by years of torture and loneliness and sorrow. Comfort rushes in and takes the place of doubt. Peace floods over the raw, abraded earth, washing away hatred. Love swells over fear, drawing it within itself and extinguishing it, burning so bright that I can see nothing else. _

_ "No shadows here." Giselle whispers as I weep in her embrace. "No hidden thoughts. When you open your eyes, my dearest, there will be nothing here but me, and the love I have for you."_

_ I dare my eyes to open, and the world is new in the soft sunlight. Giselle's eyes glitter with hope and love and tears of her own. _

_ For once, I can find no apology within me…all wrongs I have done, she has forgiven…she has erased it all. The demons that assail me now shall never find me weak again, for she has taken my pain, and restored it with the knowledge of love._

_ "Giselle, I…I love you."_

_ "I have never doubted that, trickster." she offers a slow, languid kiss. "Never once."_

_ "I do not…"_

_ "Then hush." she presses a finger to my lips. "And let the world be new for a moment. Sometimes, Kathyra…the sweetest song is silence."_

_ I snuggle deep into her embrace, letting her arms wrap around me, letting her love surround me, watching through the window as the sun continues to rise…on a new day…on a new life. _


	53. Chapter 53

**Kathyra**

"Lieutenant?" I woke to another soft voice in my ear, another pair of eyes the same unearthly green.

_But this is not the dream, _I realized, _this is the nightmare. The waking torment from which I shall soon be free. If life is kind…if life is kind enough to rescind itself. _

"Kestrel." I whispered her name, scarcely feeling her hand as she pressed it against my forehead to gauge my temperature.

"You were talking in your sleep." she told me. "And it seemed so sweet a dream that I did not wish to wake you but…Seeker Leliana said that you should not be allowed to sleep for too long."

_Lest I forget consciousness all together and slip beneath the black…let it take me, Leliana. I do not want to love you. Please. _

"Did I…" I still struggled to breathe, but the gnawing pain my side had become nothing more than a dull ache. "What…what did you hear?"

"Only a name." Kestrel answered. "But the emotion in your voice, Lieutenant…"

"Maker's breath, Kestrel," I pushed myself up slightly, waiting for the waves of agony that did not come. "If being covered…in my blood…has not given you use…of my proper name…then you…are hopeless indeed."

"As you say, Lieutenant Kathyra." she smiled, such a cheeky expression in a situation of utter doom. I could not resist a slight grin of my own.

"You must have loved her very much." Kestrel mused, her eyes flitting, as they would for the rest of her life, to Rylie.

"What?"

"The name you said…" Kestrel mumbled, seeming somewhat ashamed, as though she spoke of something she had no right to know. "Giselle. I felt…rather bad. Like a voyeur, or something else unsavory. There was so much pain in your voice…"

"Kestrel," I felt a dying woman's need to impart some wisdom, but not before searching the room for Leliana. I could not speak of this in her presence, not when I knew that she feared for the life of the one she loved…that she feared she would return to nothing where once there had been light and warmth and joy. Finding that we were alone, I continued. "Do you love her?" I directed my eyes toward Rylie.

"Very much so." a slight tinge of color entered the templar private's cheeks.

"Does…does she know?"

"I think so." Kestrel replied, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "I hope so."

I reached out and took Kestrel's hand in my own. "Tell her." I encouraged. "Please…for the sake of all…all that is good. _Tell_ her. And hold…hold her close. Cherish. Every. Moment."

Kestrel nodded, seeming to accept the advice. She pressed the palm of her hand over my heart and those vibrant green eyes went dark, saddened and sorrowed, mirroring an expression I knew so well.

"You're dying, aren't you?" she asked, and I remembered once again how young she was, how unaware of the evils of the world.

"I am." my heart kicked strangely at the words, as if it did not want to accept them, but I knew the truth.

Calm, behind the emotions stirred by memory, the physician worked, calculating assessing, diagnosing. We simply would not reach help in time. I knew, for my life was flashing before my eyes, its beauty and its pain, equal measure. And I dreaded the dark, for I knew that the grandeur had vanished now…that the song sung for the lonely heart had reached its crescendo, and soon would end.

"Seal your lips, Kathyra." Leliana entered the cabin and knelt beside me, warning Kestrel away with a flash of oceanic blue eyes. The templar private withdrew and Leliana's gaze burned into me.

"You cannot accept this, Kathyra." she whispered, ferocity and intensity, and all doubt that she could bring the dead back to life faded from me in an instant. "You cannot lock yourself away within the dream, you cannot wish for what once was."

"Why?" I asked. "Why…do you want…me to live?"

_I have done you so much wrong…more than I have even told you. I know you have a heart full of forgiveness, but if you knew, dearest Leliana, you would not be able to find one morsel of it for me. It is better…it is better this way. Please…let me go. _

"Your beautiful heart." she said, wiping blood from my lips with a tenderness I had not felt since Giselle's healing touch. "Your fathomless strength. Your courage, Kathyra. This world needs those like you."

"I ran away." I countered, even though she did not know of what I spoke. "I am…a coward…Leliana."

"Shhh." she soothed me as I began coughing beneath the strain of emotions, as blood flooded into my mouth, acrid and salty against my tongue, the bitterest of wines and cruelest of reminders. "I know a different woman. Once who could have run, and remained, who confessed to me of secrets and plots and swore to me an oath. Keep that vow, Kathyra. Please, please live."

_You would ask me to live without hope, Leliana? _I wondered. _You would ask my heart to keep beating, to break open and bleed anew with this knowledge that I cannot run from for it is __**staring**__ me in the face? Damn you! Damn you and your beautiful soul and your strong heart and your faith that is greater than any living being could ever fathom! Can you not hear me screaming within!? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Love. You._

"I…cannot…make that promise." I gasped, gagging on the taste of blood as I swallowed it back down.

"I know." Leliana acknowledged. "And this is not a command…this is a plea. From a friend to a friend, a heart to a heart, a soul to a soul. I know life has been cruel to you, and crueler still it seems. But there is _hope_, Kathyra. I know this."

_I know who gave you this hope_, I hated myself as the image of Salem Cousland entered the forefront of my mind, a woman so strong and fierce and brilliant that no light could ever comprehend comparison. _Certainly not mine._

"Hope," I settled back against the pillow, willing the dream back into existence, to let the curtain at last fall on the mockery of my life, "is for the young."

"We are not so very old, Kathyra." Leliana reminded me. "Not so very old at all."

I closed my eyes against the painful wave of hopeful longing that crashed over me. _I do not want to love you, Leliana_, I thought again, perhaps for the last time, _but I no longer believe…that I have a choice._


	54. Chapter 54

**Kathyra**

_ I walk downstairs to greet the warm sunlight of spring time. It washes over the stone floors, painting everything in shades of gold surely meant to dazzle the eyes of mortal men, to remind us of our aspirations, to inspire us to greater things than the cold world holds. _

_**I never thought I could be here again**__, I ponder the state of my world, of my heart, the peace and sense of surety I have been given. __**I thought I could never greet the morning with a smile, without a sense of dread. I never dreamed…that I could be happy. **_

_ I wash my face in freezing water, clear the grit from my eyes, and tie my hair back. The movement of my arms causes the wide swath of scar tissue on my right side to pull uncomfortably, and I gasp at the sudden, unexpected onslaught of pain from a wound long healed. _

_ Lithe, tender arms wrap around my waist and comfort infuses me as I feel Giselle's warmth like a palpable force. _

_ "Are you all right, trickster?" she asks, her voice light, airy, and soothing. "You slept rather restlessly."_

_ I smile, thanking the Maker, the Creators, whatever gods may be, for this woman who has entered my life and changed it. "I'm fine." I assure her. _

_ A tiny crease mars her brow as she looks me over thoroughly, ever the physician of my body and my soul. On instinct, her hand presses against the scar left by Marjolaine's knife and I wince, layering my hand over hers. _

_ "Does it pain you still?" she wonders. _

_ Gentle, I pry her hand from the old injury, raising it to my lips and pressing a kiss against her fingertips. "Two years ago today." I breathe, wondering why this dismal anniversary rings so strongly in my mind, why it resonates with me. _

_ "The best night of my life." Giselle has the grace to look ashamed as she whispers the words. "Not that…not that I take joy from your tragedy, Kathyra. How strange," she shakes her head, "that such grace can be found in the most horrifying of circumstances."_

_ I curl my finger beneath her chin and raise her eyes to mine. "You need not apologize for how you feel, my darling." I tell her. "It is simply…"_

_ "The body remembering." Giselle nods, wrapping her arms around me and resting in my embrace. _

_ I run my fingers through her hair, amazed by its color, its texture, the way it feels against my skin like a kiss. "You have given me much better memories, Giselle." I whisper. "Two years of joy. Two years of hope. Two years of love."_

_ "The gods and their twisted mercy." Giselle sighs, moving away and gazing deeply into my eyes, relaxed and content to remain there. "When I found you, half-dead in that alley…I thought…"_

_ "What?" I ask, kind, knowing that this is a secret she has kept for herself, not wanting her to reveal it against her will. _

_ "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." the words flee her lips in a rush, and color rushes to her cheeks. _

_ "I remember your voice." I offer, a confession for a confession. "From that night. It held…it held kindness. And surety. I had forgotten those things before you entered my life."_

_ "And still you took so long to trust me." Giselle chides. _

_ "I found my way." I reach out and take her hand in my own, squeezing it. "I found my way."_

_ "And the student eclipsed the master." she takes my hand between both of hers and examines it, running her fingertip lightly across the lines and calluses etched in my palms. "You have a healer's hands, my trickster. I am given to believe that you always have."_

_ "You saved more than my life that day." I whisper, knowing that we have shared these words before, knowing that we have walked through our memories multitudinous times…but on this day, they mean __**more**__, they are __**needed**__ more. _

_ "No more than you saved mine." Giselle sighs. "How convoluted are the paths of fate on which we find ourselves."_

_ "You are worried about something?" I ask, seeing a concern in her features that has nothing to do with the past. _

_ "When does the floor fall out from beneath us, Kathyra?" she turns to me and there is fear in her eyes. "When does paradise fall beneath the flames?"_

_ "What are you afraid of?" I inquire, wondering at this new face of alarm. "That my former life will find us again?"_

_ "Your former life." she nods. "Mine. How long can we trust Dorothea to blithely ignore us? The institution of the Chantry clinic has done wonders for her reputation, but now…our influx of patients is so great that I know the good works of the Chantry are undermined. How long can we trust your sister to believe you dead…devastating beauty is not often something hidden well."_

_ "Giselle," I step behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, pillowing my chin on her shoulder, "I promise you, I __**swear**__, no harm will come to you. Not from Dorothea, not from Marjolaine. We are safe here."_

_ "I never had enemies until that night." Giselle mumbles. "Petty grievances, miniscule grudges…but never an enemy. Then again," she turns and presses her lips against mine in a furious, ferocious kiss, "I never had a lover either."_

_ "Nor had I." I whisper. "But I had many, many enemies. Perhaps I still do. I cannot guarantee that Marjolaine will remain in the dark forever. I cannot guarantee that we will not have to flee from this place and find somewhere else to craft a life. But I can assure you, dearest, that I will keep you safe."_

_ "I trust you, Kathyra." Gisells reaches out, one hand around my waist, one atop my shoulder. "I always have."_

_ "Then you are a far braver woman than I." I guide her in the first few steps of a tuneless dance. _

_ "Not a smarter one?" she teases._

_ I pretend to ponder the inquiry before shaking my head. "Most assuredly not." I whisper, catching her lips in a tender kiss that becomes more…_

_ …it becomes a song. _


	55. Chapter 55

**Kathyra**

_ "Sit. __**Down**__." Giselle orders with a teasing shove, though the tone of her voice is nothing short of deadly serious. _

_ "I'm fine." I sigh, pursing my lips and staring at her with wide, imploring eyes. _

_ "You bloody well aren't, you rogue." she smiles, an expression that vanishes when I begin coughing. _

_ Pain spikes through my lungs and Giselle sits beside me, rubbing my back until the spasm eases. Her vibrant eyes hold a look of slight triumph, but it is mitigated by concern. _

_ "You've had that cough for a week now, darling." she ruffles my hair. "I must confess it is starting to worry me."_

_ I wave my hand, dismissive. "It's but a passing thing." I assure her. "The change of seasons. I'm fine."_

_ "Regardless," she says, the iron note in her voice that I am helpless against, "__**you**__ are ordered to remain home today, and __**rest. **__I mean it, Kathyra. No cleaning, no organizing, no summons to be answered. No writing either; it strains your eyes."_

_ "But…the orphanage." I cough again, growling low in my throat in frustration. "Will you not need help?"_

_ "Darling," she strokes my cheek with a tender touch, "I once ran and managed the entirety of the Chantry clinic. I am more than capable of handling this myself, and depending on the nature of the sickness there, I refuse to endanger you."_

_ "I know…I just…"_

_ "For once stop taking care of me and do something for yourself." she demands. "I should return some time after sunset."_

_ I grasp her hand as she rises and squeeze it. "I love you." I whisper._

_ Giselle turns to me with a radiant smile. "I love you too." she answers, as she always does, but my heart never fails to sing with the joy of it. _

_ My physician leans down and kisses my cheek. "Take care of yourself, trickster." she orders, shouldering her satchel and leaving our home on an errand of mercy. _

_**An errand of mercy…those words are in my mind…as a normality, as something ordinary. **__My heart, so long denied joy, so long denied hope, has done nothing but bask in those emotions for these three years. Yes, there are the hard times, the disagreements…we are both stubborn, both opinionated, both determined in our ways…but the __**love**__ is there. The love that sees us through every moment, that assures me that no matter what is said between us, in anger and in fear, come the morning, she will still be at my side, and I will be with her. _

_ I spend the day obeying my physician's orders, slipping in and out of restful sleep, drinking teas with herbs to ease the tightness in my chest, smiling as I think of my beautiful Giselle. My thoughts turn to a place I never thought they could venture. Giselle has told me she desires no child of her own…but I can see it in her face when we visit the orphanage of Val Royeaux, or when Matthias, Areya, and little Gisyra come to pass the time with us. _

_ There is a longing in my physician, to turn her calling of care and mentorship to a higher purpose. _

_**A family?**__ I question myself. __**To adopt a child perhaps, one without father and mother…to save them from my fate, and from hers. To take a lonely heart and bring it into a home of laughter and light. Giselle herself has not spoken of it but I can see…I can see the wistfulness in her eyes, the brilliant blush on her cheeks when she holds a child in her arms. And there are many…who need what we can provide.**_

_ A smile crosses my face unbidden and a fire begins to burn in my chest, a sensation familiar enough for me to recognize it…now. It is hope. It is love. It is all things worth fighting for in life. _

_ It surprises me when I look through the window and see that night has fallen, the cool glow of the moon casting shadows across my stone floor. I no longer fear the night. I know she still harbors the same secrets, that somewhere, beneath her light, a woman…or man…perhaps very much once like me, sings the sanguine song of the bards. I know that secrets run rampant through the shadows, and that gold is poured from clean hands into dirty ones for services rendered. _

_ However, I am unmoved. I am content. I am happy. I have found my redemption and my light…and I have bidden that darker world farewell. _

_ A pounding at my door jars me from reverie and I grip the dagger of the knife I still carry always with me. I have become less fearful of the world, but I refuse to abandon caution. Not when I know that somewhere, in the shadows, there still lurk those who remember my name and my deeds from another lifetime, ended three years ago. _

_ I open the door and relinquish my grip as a man staggers forward, clutching the wound in his gut. I help him to one of the beds in the clinic and aid him in a sitting position, lifting his shirt and examining the wound. _

_ "What happened?" I ask, even though I already know._

_ His wound is deep, caused by the sharpest of blades, the finest of steel. Were I forced to guess, I would say he had come across the tip of the rapier so favored by Orlesian noblemen. _

_ "Accident at the docks." he speaks, and a chill crawls down my spine. _

_ He speaks with the rough accent of a dockworker, but I can hear the dulcet notes, the resonance he attempts to keep at bay. I frown as I turn away and fetch a clean needle and the fine silk used for the stitching of wounds. I feel his eyes watching me, and I alter my movement accordingly, loosening my shoulders, taking smaller steps, anything so as to let him remain blind to the fact that I am uneasy. _

_ I return to him with a threaded needle, clean dressings, and bitter wine. "I will have to clean the wound." I tell him. "It will be painful."_

_ "Had worse." he attempts once more to sound gruff, but I listen to the sound behind the sound, confirming my initial suspicion. _

_**He is not as he seems. **_

_ I cleanse his wound with wine, knowing that I do not want to look into his face, but unable to fathom why. My mind is screaming at me, a memory just out of reach perhaps…or worse…a memory stolen. There is so much that I do not remember, and my hands begin to tremble as I stitch the wound closed and bandage it. _

_ "Keep still for a few days, if your occupation allows it." I speak, forcing my voice to rise above a frightened whisper. _

_ His hand, which does not smell of fish, but of gold and blood, lifts my face to the moonlight, and I stare into deep black eyes, eyes that have no beginning and no end, eyes that could smile while they murdered. My heart beats frantically in my chest, driving me back into nightmares. _

_**How do I know you**__? I wonder, scouring my thoughts, rifling through what memories I have of this man…unable to find anything. _

_ But I know, I __**know**__, that I have felt something from those eyes before…and it was not fear. _

_ "You are quite beautiful," he speaks, the dockworker's accent forgotten, "for a simple healing woman. Do I know you?"_

_ "I'm quite certain you do not." I rise, moving away from his hand, refusing to help him to his feet. _

_ He rises, slow, and smiles at me, removing a pouch of coin from his belt. "Thank you for your services, my dear." he speaks, dropping the purse on the bed. "I shall be certain to recommend you."_

_ "I recommend you do not darken this doorstep again, no matter the reason." I spit, eager to get him out of my house. _

_ "As you wish." he nods his head and crosses my threshold, leaving me trembling in his absence. _

_ I slump to my knees, still desperately searching, knowing that I have seen his face, heard his voice, looked into those eyes…__**those black, deadly eyes**__…unable to recall. _

_ I want nothing but for Giselle to return home. Somehow, the night has changed. The moon has betrayed me, showing me her true face, one of danger and mistrust…all comfort from the day has fled, leaving ice in its wake. And for the first time in so long…I am truly, truly afraid. _


	56. Chapter 56

**Kathyra**

_ Everything is dark. The candles have burned out, the moon moved higher in the sky, becoming the strange, faraway entity that bards are taught to love, taught to revere. I sit on the clinic floor, staring into the hearth, daring myself to light a fire, to dispel the fear in my heart and convince the frightened child within that the shadows cast by light hold no threat. _

_ The sole sound that breaks the thick, heavy silence is the noise of my occasional coughing, and even that I mute, listening, always listening for the murmurs in the dark. _

_**The voices of the ghosts**__, I shudder as the pre-winter chill pervades the house and seeps into my bones. __**The voices that I know are there…they have been silent these years…waiting. Waiting in the dark and lingering. How could I forget the blood on my hands? How could I forget the voices that I silenced? How could I…how could I…how could…**_

_ The door swings open and I flinch at the sound, but the cadence of the footfalls is one I know too well. A step that drives away the fear clenching my heart and twisting my gut. _

_ "Kathyra?" Giselle's light voice, tired, but un-tinged by fear, unmarked by alarm. _

_ The tension releases my body, leaving me boneless and trembling and exhausted. "I'm here." I speak, scarcely above a whisper. _

_ "Maker's breath." I hear a thump as Giselle's satchel falls to the floor and the door slams shut. _

_ I remain where I am as Giselle kneels before the hearth and strikes a spark, setting the kindling aflame, sending a warm orange glow throughout the house. My physician flies to my side, her hands taking mine, wincing as they feel the chill of my skin. _

_ "What are you thinking, trickster?" she asks. "It's bitter cold outside, and you're chilled to the bone. Sit closer to the fire and," her eyes at last catch mine and she __**sees**__ deeper than any have right, the depth I have only let her reach. "What happened?" her voice gentles. "What happened, my darling?"_

_ "I…I do not rightly know." I confess. "A patient came in…while you were gone. I…I think I knew him once."_

_ "From where?" she inquires. _

_ "Don't know." I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, shuddering as the first wave of warmth reaches out and attempts to comfort me. "I cannot remember."_

_ Her expression softens and her hand caresses my cheek. "The dark times?" she questions, using her gentle euphemism for the blood soaked nightmare of my past. _

_ "I th…think so." I shiver as I speak and Giselle moves behind me, wrapping me in her arms. _

_ Even though she has just come in from the chill of the evening, her skin feels warm against mine. "Do you think…"_

_ "No." I cut her words short, knowing of what she speaks. "Let those times stay dead and buried, Giselle. I do not want them resurrected; I do not want them in the forefront of my thoughts."_

_ She quiets, as she has every time this conversation has arisen between us. After the nightmares that have no form and shape, the things I whisper in the dark. I know they frighten her, and I know she wishes that I had the strength to face them. But I cannot do it. I cannot lift lyrium to my lips and discover what dark magic has torn away. I cannot stomach the taste, nor face the recollections of what torture I have endured...inflicted. _

_ "I understand." she speaks at last, after the uncomfortable pause which she knows I can translate. The pause of fierce love reigning in its temper. The pause of a lover unwilling to test that love too far. _

_ "I'm sorry." I breathe, relaxing into her embrace, stretching my feet towards the fire. _

_ "I simply wish you would not let these things haunt you so, trickster." she tucks her chin into my shoulder, watching as the fire burns higher. _

_ "I am not ready to exchange the questions for more nightmares." I say, wondering at the wavering conviction in my voice. "Are the ones I have not deep enough?"_

_ "I would not know." she smiles and presses her lips against my neck. "You are more than willing to confide your emotions; less than forthright about the actions that caused them. Do you still fear that I will abandon you, my darling?"_

_ "Yes." I speak my fears into the shadows, daring them to come for me, to ooze out of the ether and take form and shape and intent. _

_ "These years spent at your side and in your bed have done nothing to persuade you?"_

_ "It takes an old sword to slay an old fear." I whisper an ancient adage, unable to remember where I had once heard it. "You are so damnably bright, Giselle. There are times, when I am near you, that I feel lost in the shadows once more."_

_ "So I am freshly minted from a forge?" she asks, the teasing lilt in her voice that never fails to place a smile on my lips, no matter their unwillingness. _

_ "Unblooded steel, my love." I lean my head against hers. _

_ "No matter." she angles her face and presses her lips against mine in a tender, reassuring kiss. "Time eases all wounds, alleviates all fears. I am willing to wait. With you and for you."_

_ "How is it possible that you have the patience to endure fractious children all this day, and return home with some to spare for me?" I ask, staring into her eyes, drowning in their brilliant green, discovering a new universe after every blink, falling in love with her again and again and again. _

_ "Hmmm?" she asks, looking from side to side. "Am I not still tending fractious children?" _

_ "Wenchlet." I shove her away from me, attempting petulance and failing as she takes my face between her hands and presses a passionate kiss against my lips. _

_ "Love, my darling." she answers, fading from mirth to sincerity. "An abundance of love so great my heart can scarce contain it. Now come to bed, and let me provide you with sweeter dreaming."_

_ I rise to my feet, no longer cold, following her, and her promises, as ever I have done. __**As ever I will continue to do. **_


	57. Chapter 57

**Kathyra**

_ I awake to the deftest of touches, a brushing of careful fingertips against my scars. I greet the morning, finding myself more sane, my heart less haunted. It was her touch, grounding me in the safety of my own body, guiding me toward the calm places in my mind. _

_ "Did I wake you?" I ask, concerned that once again I have roused her from slumber. _

_ "No." Giselle smiles. "Though I woke for want of you. You are so peaceful when you sleep, Kathyra." she traces the slight lines at the corner of my eyes. "You seem so young and at ease with the world."_

_ "Was ever I young?" I wonder, staring at the walls of my childhood home, where once two little girls had played and dreamed and longed for the world where we had our freedom._

_ When all of life was a joy and a secret to be indulged in and unraveled. Before the tint of rose in my eyes was stained the crimson of blood. _

_ "Of course you were." Giselle pillows her head on my breast and I sigh with content as I tangle my hand in her hair. "But young does not always mean carefree, or innocent, or childlike."_

_ She kisses the base of my breast and I tremble from the unmitigated force of her touch. _

_ "I love you, Giselle." I speak the words that fall from my lips daily, that will never grow old, and never lose their emotion. _

_ "I know, trickster." she tucks her head underneath my chin and pulls me closer against her, to where our skin is as one, where her unblemished body covers my scars and lets me believe, for a precious instant, that I am whole. _

_ Tender, gentle, she strokes the long, jagged scar that runs along my side, hip and leg. I shiver at her touch on the hypersensitive skin, basking in it, longing for it. _

_ "Of all your scars, Kathyra," she breathes, "it is this one I love the most."_

_ "Why?" I ask, wondering how she could accept the blemishes on my body. _

_ "I have a theory, my darling." she says, her breath ghosting across my skin, warming me. "Perhaps a maudlin physician's dark thoughts, but it has been proven to me too many times to disregard it."_

_ "And?" I ask, clawing into the mattress as her tracing of my scar continues, titillating my skin, harshening my breathing. _

_ "The price of freedom." there is reverence in her voice. "Everyone knows that it is the fight that earns freedom, but so few realize that the fight is free. It comes from the spirit, radiates from the soul and infuses the hands and wills the mind, bending it to its own force. Freedom's price is blood, Kathyra. This wound earned your freedom…and also mine. You gave it for me…willingly."_

_ Her words humble me. Though I have never considered myself a proud woman, the way Giselle speaks of what I have done for her…I sink low within myself. Perhaps young again, and blushing at the smile of a beautiful girl, mind turned on end for a brief flight of fancy. _

_**Only, **__I wrap my arm around her, igniting the nerves in her back with a feather light touch, torturing her as sweetly as she tortures me, __**this flight of fancy has yet to crash to the ground. **_

_ "I had nothing else to give you." I still the motion of her hand and draw it to my lips. _

_ "You call this nothing?" she gestures to the room we share, the bed we lie in._

_ "You gave me the will to fight, Giselle." I draw her face to mine and press my lips against hers. "My blood was so small a price to pay to find that gift restored. I adore you, my physician."_

_ She gazes into my eyes as her traitorous hand moves down and slowly circles my breast, closing further in towards its intended target. My muscles spasm and my breathing turns shallow as my skin puckers, hardens, and desire spirals through my stomach and moves lower. _

_ "Giselle…" there are words I want to say, but they leave me as her mouth closes over my breast, as her teeth graze the sensitive flesh and a feral sound of pleasure rips from somewhere deep in my soul. _

_ "And you let me give back." she whispers, flicking an erect nipple with the tip of her tongue. "Ancient gods, you're lovely." she moves lower, pressing her lips to the swath of scar tissue on my right side, drawing pleasure from the nerves instead of pain. _

_ My thighs clench and my back arches as my eyes close, forgetting the pain of the wound she healed with her hands, that she now speaks to and touches with reverence…for it brought us into each other's lives…a strange blood bond. _

_ "How is this mine, Kathyra?" she asks, moving lower as my body surges towards the heat of her touch, the conflagration of her lips. "Your love, your heart, your skin, your soul, your taste…"_

_ Her lips descend lower and I cry out yet again as the warmth of her mouth engulfs me. Her nails trail along my outer thighs, pleasure and pain intermingled as I writhe beneath her touch, happy and no longer afraid. No longer alone. _

_ "Giselle." I whisper her name as her tongue travels in lazy, tantalizing sweeps across my sex, as she devours me body and soul. _

_ My muscles clench as I look down at her, as she sings to me the oldest of songs, speaks the most ancient of languages with such a skilled tongue that, too quickly, I come undone, falling back and gasping and panting, sparks and stars glimmering in my vision as she does not relent, instead filling me with her gentle, healer's hand. She moves in a slow rhythm, forcing me down from the precipice and dragging me back up again. _

_ My lungs ache as I gasp for breath, my eyes burn with tears as I relinquish myself yet again to the beauty of her desires. And I know, I __**know**__ in my very soul, that this is worth any amount of blood. _

_ "My darling Kathyra." Giselle murmurs, closing her lips around that so-sensitive bundle of nerves, pulsing the tip of her tongue in time with her fingers, driving me over the edge for the second time. _

_ I shudder as I recover from the fall as Giselle covers me with her body, punctuating her way with kisses. She brushes my sweaty, tangled hair from my face and smiles at me with eyes and lips. _

_ "I cherish every moment of what you have given me, trickster." she tells me. "I love you."_

_ "I want…" I reach up and frame her face with my hands. "I want more, Giselle."_

_ Confusion creases her brow and the slightest tinge of fear enters her eyes. "Are you…are you unhappy, darling?"_

_**No. Never that. But I am braver now. Braver now than ever before. **_

_ "Giselle," I run my fingers across the delicate point of her ear, "I want…with you, I want…a family."_


	58. Chapter 58

**Kathyra**

_ Giselle's eyes turn quizzical and she slips beside me, the playful amorousness in her eyes replaced by a look of deep contemplation. _

_ "Of all the places I thought your mind might venture, trickster." she smiles, curling my hair around her finger. "You still surprise me."_

_ "I apologize." a flush of shame infuses my cheeks. "I meant…I meant to wait for a better time to speak of this with you but…"_

_ "Hush." she stills my words with a light kiss. "I will not have you treading lightly around something that is obviously of great importance to you. A family?" she asks, a subtle hint in her tone that says more than her simple inquiry._

_**We have spoken of this. We have agreed…why would you press this further? **_

_ I nod, unable to think of the words to adequately express my feelings as I look into her eyes, stunned by the repressed longing in them that speaks with more eloquence than any woman or man could dream of. _

_ "I..." she breaks the moment of stillness between us. "I want that too, Kathyra. I have for some time. But we agreed. I will not…I will not inflict what befell me upon an innocent child. I cannot sentence anyone to that. Unless…you…"_

_ Grief washes over me, sudden and without warning. Tears prick the back of my eyes and I close them, shuddering from the memory._

_ "I can't." I confide to her, another confession that has taken too much time to come into the light. "Leron…Leron made certain that his investment would never be at risk of producing offspring." I open my eyes and let the tears fall as Giselle places a tender hand across my womb, forever destined to be barren. _

_ "Magic?" she asks, her eyes filling with tears of her own, as her beautiful soul takes on the burden of my grief yet again. _

_ "The very same." I remain still as Giselle wraps her arm around me and pulls me into her embrace, guiding my ear to her breast, where I can listen to the reassuring resonance of her heartbeat and ground myself in the knowledge that I am not alone. _

_ "How many dreams have been torn from you, my darling?" she whispers, but her voice reaches not only my ears, but those of the gods she follows and loves. Gods of love and light and mercy. Gods that I still falter in believing exist. _

_ "All but one." I answer. "All but this." _

_ "So what can we do?" she asks, moving from the stillness of grief to the flurry of action with a seamlessness that to some would seem cold. "What can we do to see these dreams realized?"_

_ "I thought…" I take a deep breath, fortified in the assurance in Giselle's tone, the knowing that her desires come alongside mine. "…I thought that perhaps we could adopt a child. There are so many left abandoned, unwanted by the fools who brought new life into this world without consideration…or, so sadly, against their will."_

_ "Beautiful heart." Giselle kisses my hair. "You want to save another from your fate."_

_ "You have given me so much, Giselle." I lift my eyes to hers, luxuriating in the feel of her body alongside mine, the touch of hands that will never betray, never harm, never beguile and manipulate. "So much that I can no longer contain it within myself. I want to give," I trail my hands down her body, trusting their eloquence far more than that of my words. _

_ "I love you so endlessly, Kathyra." Giselle breathes as my lips find her neck. "I have…I have no power to refuse you. Nor any wish to do so. You have added so much joy to my life. Thank you." she whispers as I continue my worship of her body, my thanks for her beauty and brilliance and light. "Thank you for letting me find you…for letting me __**see**__ you…for letting me touch you."_

_ Her words strike a primal chord in me. The remnants of the dark places in my heart vanish as my hands hold something solid, something real, the substance of things hoped for. I lift her over me and cling to her, running my hands along the delicate willowy curves that drew my eyes from the first. I hold her by the hips as her eyes meet mine in a gaze of longing and love and promise for new things, for a continuation of this life we have built together. _

_ "So," I look into her eyes as they spark with desire, "it is a yes then?"_

_ "Eternally. Irrevocably." her eyes glaze over as I brush my fingertips across the apex of her thighs. "Let us build something unheard of, my darling."_

_ "A home." I whisper, dreaming again as I feel her above me, radiating light and warmth and pulsing with desire as I slip my fingers into her slick heat and comfort. _

_ Giselle sighs in contentment and satisfaction as I move within her, an action that has become something more than simple lovemaking. It is a symbol of creation, of a decision made between two loving hearts and minds. A symbol to solidify the step we have chosen to take. _

_ "Look at me." I urge as her eyes flutter closed. _

_ She opens them again as I curl my fingers upward, feeling her vibrations through my entire body, an earthquake in my spirit and soul, a grandeur heretofore blissful…and now…now…perfect. _

_ "I love you." she whispers as I continue guiding her along this path, this journey. _

_ Giselle leans forward and kisses me, moving onto her side, her hand mirroring the position of mine as her brows raise in silent supplication. My eyes spark as I eagerly embrace her touch. _

_ "With me." she breathes. "Please…come with me."_

* * *

…fire radiated through me and flung me from the sweetest of dreams. I stared at the ceiling, remembering where I was. The stolen ship, the painful wound, the blood filling my lungs and drowning me slowly.

_Thank you_, I whispered to whatever gods may be, _thank you for giving me this…for grounding me in this world of physical pain…for I cannot endure…what further dreaming __**must**__ reveal. _


	59. Chapter 59

**Kathyra**

"How long has she been awake?" Leliana asked above the sound of a low, keening cry. It took too long to realize that it was my voice, a wordless wail of anguish.

"Longer than the last few times." Kestrel answered, and I could feel the weight of both their eyes on me. "I cannot…cannot imagine the pain she must be in."

"Kestrel, will you leave us for a moment?" Leliana gestured towards the stairs leading to the ship deck. "Breathe some fresh air."

Kestrel made no argument; she merely turned and strode up the stairs as Leliana sat down beside me and took my hand. Comfort and peace filled me and I looked into the ocean depths of her eyes, wondering if her Salem witnessed the same thing as I. Overwhelming love, a need to protect, to heal the wounds of all the world.

"I can only assume," Leliana spoke, her voice filled with compassion, "that you lie awake in such terrible agony because whatever dreams hold you are too cruel to return to."

I attempted to speak, but the words would not manifest. I could but let the tears fall from my eyes in an answer to her question.

"It breaks my heart," Leliana whispered, "to see you in pain, and be able to do nothing. Forgive me," she stroked my brow in a soothing motion, "for asking you to sleep once more. These dreams, whatever they may be…you witness them for a reason."

_No. There is no reason but torment. To remember what I have lost in the face of that which I am destined to lose. _

"Please." she asked again, this time pressing her lips to my forehead. Both of us knew its meaning, and I wept from her intent. "I cannot take away your pain, Kathyra. But when you wake, when you are well again…I can help you endure it. Go back to sleep, sweet soldier. For my sake…please."

_Why…why does my heart cry out…why does it whisper, Leliana…that I will do anything for you. Even, _my eyelids fluttered closed, _even return…even return._

* * *

_ The day fades into night, blissful, exuberant, every glance filled with overwhelming love, a gentle caress every time our paths meet. There is a sense of fulfillment as we begin relocating the sparse furnishings of the office we share, making plans for the brightest of futures. A future we are so secure in, that we want to give it to another, an innocent deprived and denied. _

_ Giselle stands in the doorway, my arms wrapped about her waist, my chin perched on her shoulder. Her hand reaches up and caresses my cheek as she leans back against me. _

_ "I can scarcely contain myself." she whispers. "My heart…it wants to beat out of my chest, there is so much joy there."_

_ "The first time you told me such a thing," I kiss her neck, "I fell in love with you."_

_ "I am so glad, so grateful, so delirious and replete with happiness." Giselle turns in my arms and kisses me. "A family." she repeats the words we have spoken of from sun-up 'til now. "We are going to have…to be…a family."_

_**Yes!**__ my heart trembles in my chest, filled with the same emotions Giselle describes, still to hesitant to speak them into the universe and declare 'this will be so'._

_ A knock sounds at the door and Giselle rests her forehead against my shoulder and sighs. Then she looks into my eyes, and her smile is __**radiant**__. _

_ "It would not be our lives were there not these interruptions." she casts away her frustrations. _

_ I follow her down the stairs, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips, her hair as it catches and reflects the candlelight. However, as she approaches the door, I cannot help the foreboding that fills my spirit, the niggling voice in the back of my mind that has ever warned me against preparing for the future, or harboring the hope of dreams. _

_ "Giselle." I stop her before she reaches it. "Be cautious."_

_ She looks to me and raises her brow, her lips quirking upward in an indulgent smile as she peers through the hole in the door. I go cold as her face pales, as she pulls away from the door in alarm. _

_ "Kathyra," she hisses, "hide. Now."_

_ "What?" I step closer to her._

_ "Templars." she flicks her eyes towards the storage closet in the entry hall. "You know they are not seeking me."_

_**Damn it all to hell!**__ I quicken my steps and slip into the storage closet, fighting the trembling of my hands. __**Has Dorothea at last decided to charge me for the crimes I committed against her? Has she decided that I can no longer be free? Be careful, my darling physician, please…please be careful. **_

_ I press my eye against a knot in the wood of the door, determined to see what is happening, to make certain that the one I love is safe. Sweat beads on my forehead and begins to soak through my hair and run down my skin as I wait. _

_ Giselle carefully arranges her hair, covering the tell-tale proof of her heritage. She opens the door and admits three men in templar garb. _

_ "Is this the home of the physician Kathyra?" their leader asks, his eyes sweeping the room._

_ "It is." Giselle stands before him, her shoulders squared, her spine rigid. _

_ The templar glares at my physician, scrutinizing her. A grin of satisfaction crosses his features. _

_ "Have you injured with you?" Giselle asks, the slightest quaver in her voice as she succumbs to the guard's scrutiny. "Or a summons from the Chantry, perhaps?"_

_ The templar captain does not answer her and my heart begins to beat faster in my chest as he does nothing but __**look**__ at her. _

_ "Gold hair." one of his compatriots comes alongside him. "Green eyes. Pretty." he grins. "Fits the description, and no one else is here."_

_**They do not speak as templars**__, I realize, gripping the hand of the door, preparing to open it. _

_ "Very well then."_

_ My entire body freezes as I watch the templar captain's expression shift, as a flash of steel fires across my eyes, glinting silver in the candlelight. A sick memory rings in my mind, the sound of a blade tearing across flesh…but no. This is no flashback, no repressed darkness come to the fore of my thoughts. _

_ The three templars flee the house as I fall out of the closet, scrabbling across the floor on my hands and knees, unable to breathe, unable to think…unable to keep my eyes from the spreading pool of crimson on the floor. _


	60. Chapter 60

**Kathyra**

_**No. No no no no no no no no no no no. **__That singular word pounds like a death knell inside my mind as my clothing becomes stained with blood, as I kneel beside the woman who holds light and life within her and carries the tethers that have thus far kept me grounded in the waking world. _

_ Her body trembles from shock, her skin is ghostly ashen and pale, with one frail, delicate hand covering the slash across her throat…a ribbon of blood…an uncrossable river. _

_ Her eyes plead with me to do something, to save her, to fight for the breath she struggles to hold on to. Her lips work, but there are no words, just more blood, blood that stains everything I have touched, that ruins everything I have loved, that owns everything I dreamed of possessing. _

_ "Giselle." I say her name, unfamiliar with the stranger's voice shredding from my throat. It is raw and wild and animalistic, bordering on insanity, bordering on faithlessness and death. "Giselle, please, my darling. Please don't do this, don't do this."_

_**Help me**__. Her eyes beg and her brows crease and I know she is in pain but there is nothing I can do…the red river still flows still flows still flows and I. Can. Do. Nothing! There are no herbs for this sort of wound, no bandaging. Magic, yes…but there is no time…no time._

_ I place my hand over hers and attempt to staunch the wound, hating the gurgling, blood bubbled sounds that peel from her open mouth. I can sense her light fading, the warm shield around my heart turning to ice and cold and memories of a very clear understanding of the definition of __**alone**__. _

_**Why is this happening**__? I ask myself, trying to find the answers for the confusion in her eyes. __**What went wrong…who knew…who…**_

_ "Thy…ra…" just the faintest rasp, should have been impossible, should have never happened, but it does, and she speaks, and my eyes meet hers again and I wish that my hands were as skilled as she believes them to be. _

_ But I cannot fight death. I cannot fight this. I cannot even lift her head into my lap. I cannot embrace her. I cannot do anything but this…but watch, watch as someone beautiful and pure is stripped from the world in a senseless act of violence. _

_ "I love you." I press my lips to her forehead, a promise to protect, a promise to care for, the ultimate statement of intentions. _

_**You lied**__, the black voice rises up in me, threading its thorny, venomous vines around my heart. __**You said you would protect her. You said that **__**none**__** would touch her and yet look…see the blood. See the wound. See what your hand hath wrought. **_

_ "I love you, Giselle." I force the black voice away, knowing that it will come again, knowing that I commit these sights to memory out of penitence and hatred and helplessness. _

_ Giselle's mouth closes. The edges of her lips are tinged blue, but they curve upwards into a smile as she looks at me. And those eyes, those eyes whose color has represented all good things, those eyes which gazed at me, a murderer, a thief, a whore, a liar, those eyes which saw in me something worthy of love…those eyes __**spark**__._

_ I read them as only a bard can translate silence._

_**I love you, trickster**__, her expressions speak with more eloquence than words. __**Always have.**_

_ Slow, damning, her healer's hand moves away from the slash across her neck, letting the uncrossable river flow freely, without remorse, without regret. She lifts her trembling, blood-stained palm and presses it into my shirt, over my left breast. _

_**Beautiful heart,**__ her brows lift, and I know it is an admonition to forgive and move through, that somehow, somehow this twisted, horrid mockery of nightmarish travesty is a gift. __**You're free now**__. She blinks…once…and I wait for her to speak of some great regret, some final task that I must accomplish. Instead, her eyes open with the tiniest of sighs, and what I read there devastates me. _

_**I'm glad. **_

_ "Giselle." I beg as the force of her hand leaves my chest, as I feel naked without her touch, as her hand falls down and rests in a pool of sick, sticky blood. "Giselle, no." _

_ I lift her and cradle her body against mine, awash in so many emotions that I cannot name them all, a smear of horror and hatred and wrath and agony and anguish and suffering and sorrow and…no, no there are no words. _

_ I tuck her hair behind her ear, shuddering as I feel her skin lose its warmth bit by bit, haunted by the lack of her breath against my flesh, remembering this day, the love, the plans, the futures of which we dreamed and prepared for and now…_

_ Now they are dead in my hands. The uncrossable red river carved in her throat. _

_**Did you know she could sing**__? I ask my beloved's murderer. __**Did you know…she could sing? **_

_ Great heavy sobs shred out of my body as I hold my Giselle, my freedom and my fire and my reminder that hope still exists. Dead now. Gone now. Somehow at peace…a peace she took with her, for she could not leave it behind. _

_ I gaze into the stillness of her countenance, the playful lips forever at rest, the vibrant eyes closed in acceptance and absolution. _

_**Gold hair. Green Eyes. Pretty.**__ The templars words come back to me…__**Is this the home of the physician Kathyra? **_

_ Agony racks me and twists my stomach and punches through my spine. _

_ "Why, my darling?" I ask, knowing now that the blade wielded was meant for me…that those men were no more templars than I was the empress. "It should have been me. Why wasn't it me?"_

_ I am so torn as I sit there, holding her, surrounded by and covered in her blood, letting it soak through my clothes and chill me, letting it stain me with sin once more. _

_**I should have saved her. I should have protected her. I promised!**_

_** I failed. **_

_ There are a hundred roads that I must travel; I know this as I stroke the angles of her cheekbones with my shaking, bloodstained fingers. I must find those who did this, and make them suffer. I must sort through the cavern in my soul and make sense of love and loss. I must honor her properly…for I love her…I love her…I __**loved**__ her, for she is past tense now…_

_ I must find the courage…to somehow…rise from the blood…and let go of her body._


	61. Chapter 61

**Kathyra**

_ The night is bitter cold, wrapping around me like a frigid embrace, a blanket of ice to scrape across my soul in a mockery of comfort. I knock at the door, not knowing how I came to be here, staring at the dried and flaking blood soaking my hand, feeling the heavy stains on my clothes, weighing me down as though they are stones. _

_ "Stay back." I hear a warning tone from inside the house. _

_ It is a tone of a protector, one who cares for those who reside with them, not one who lets them be…__**be slaughtered…oh gods, what have I done? **_

_ The door opens and I look into eyes I do not know all that well, but my feet have brought me here, the last vestige of instinct that I will allow to guide me. _

_ "Kathyra?" the alienage Elder's eyes widen as he takes in my disreputable state, my bloodied clothes, disheveled hair, wild and frenetic eyes. _

_ He looks beyond me, seeking the sole reason I, a human, would ever have to visit the alienage. My Giselle. _

_ I slump to my knees, unwilling to cross the threshold, unable to stand any longer, drained of will and strength…drained of life itself. _

_ "I need," my mumble, my voice thick with tears and scarred with sobbing. "I need your help, ser."_

_ He offers me a weathered hand, a hand that I shrink away from. All memories of the beauty of touch have been vanquished, and the phantasms Giselle had fought away for years with her mere, indomitable presence, roar to the forefront, repeating with the voice of a dead mage…_

_**Trust no one. Touch no one. What will you have at the end of the day but dirt on your skin and emptiness to show for outreach? An embrace of hands one moment, a knife in your back the next. **_

_"What happened, my child?" he asks, and I shake my head, not trusting my voice to answer as I kneel on the cold dirt, praying for it to open and swallow me whole, to devour me body and soul and leave no memory that I existed…to let me be with her in a paradise so newly entered on. _

_ "She…she…Giselle is dead." I whisper, hating the words as I speak them, hating that I cannot run and hide from their truth, for I wear their evidence and I smell them on me, as visceral and real as if I still cradled her corpse close. "I…I don't know what to do."_

_ His features change, from worry into grief, and his watery eyes fill with the sheen of tears. "Come inside." he orders. "Out of the cold, child, quickly."_

_ I manage to pull myself to my feet and stagger over the threshold of his humble home, collapsing again near the fire and staring through the flames, unaware of the heat, of the bright colors scouring and offending my eyes with their light. _

_ "What happened, Kathyra?" the Elder sits beside me, offering a scratchy woolen blanket to wrap around my shoulders. "Please, tell me what happened."_

_ "I…I came home." I lie, wrapping myself in the comfort of old habits, forgotten habits, habits she erased…but she is gone, and so are the gifts she gave me. "I found her…her throat was cut…please, Elder," I dare to meet his eyes, wondering at the grief I see in them still, "I do not know what to do."_

_ The Elder hangs his head, accustomed to the death of his people as I am accustomed to the death of mine. But Giselle…she was neither of us, and better than both. _

_ "I left her there." I confess, wishing that the fist I curled my fingers into would merge and harden into a knife so that I might tear out my own heart. "I hoped…hoped you might…"_

_ His gnarled hand on my shoulder arrests my words and a flash of fear flows through me. "Wait for a moment." he orders, rising and walking to the back of his humble home._

_ I hear mumbled voices, but do not attempt to translate them. Language has lost its purpose, its beauty, its necessity. If it cannot be spoken with silence or with blade, I need no longer listen, I need no longer wonder…wonder has been stripped from the world, leaving it naked and stark, reality oozing from deep wounds carved by human misdeeds. _

_**I killed her**__, I speak to myself. __**I **__**fucking**__** killed her!**_

_ The Elder re-enters the room, two young elven men behind him. He nods towards the door and they exit. _

_ "My grandsons." he explains, sitting beside me once more, an emptiness in his aged eyes, the firelight defining the crags in his skin. "I've sent them for her. She will…she will be taken care of, my child."_

_ "I'm sorry." I mumble, uncertain if I mean the words. "I had nowhere else to go…no one to ask."_

_ "Fitting then," his voice is somber, "that you should come to my door. Giselle is…was…my grandniece."_

_ "What?" his confession sparks the anger in my soul and I stare at him with all the hatred I feel, towards the false templars, towards Dorothea, who drove her out, and, paramount…my hatred of myself. "She is…she is your __**blood kin**__…and you did __**nothing**__ for her!"_

_ He spread his hands wide in supplication. "What could I do for her?" he asks, his voice calm and patient with long suffering. "There is little forgiveness…on either side…for those who mix elven and human blood. And…Creators bless her, she found her own way. And then she found you…and my heart found its peace."_

_ I could not accept these words, not from him, not from a member of her family who had let her languish in loneliness, who had refused to accept her because of her blood…blood that was equal parts theirs as much as it was anything else. _

_ I stood on shaky legs and stared him in the eye, certain that this would be the last time I would __**ever**__ gaze upon him. "Do right by her." I order, knowing that whatever funeral rites they offer, I will not be present…I cannot be. I cannot say farewell. I cannot let go of this…I am not Giselle. "For the love of all that is good, for __**all**__ that __**she**__ held dear…do right by her."_

_ "Will you not…"_

_ "No." I shake my head. "Send her to her gods…and I will worship mine in her honor."_

_ I move towards the door, a path clear to me, a path burning bright with anger and wrath and ferocity and the phantom knives I can feel already in my grasp. _

_ The Elder's hand rests on my shoulder as I grasp the latch. I turn to stare at him. "What gods do you worship, Kathyra?" he questions. _

_ And once I would have told him that I worshipped as Giselle did. That my gods were those of healing and love and light and hope. I know now that it is not so, that my darker heart has waited for my return…and that it came for me with vengeance and slaughter and a stranger's knife. _

_ "The god of blood." I whisper. "The god of death." I take his hand and remove it from its perch on my shoulder. "Don't fucking touch me."_


	62. Chapter 62

**Kathyra**

_ I let the darkness envelop me, inviting the chill into my soul as I cross the threshold of what once was home, what once was shelter and dreams established. Now it is empty and void of life, void of light. The embers flicker in the hearth, as though struggling to stay alive, struggling to remind me of the existence of warmth, comfort, and home. _

_ The hazy glow illuminates the wide swath of blood on the floor, an ink black puddle in which to fall, in which to drown, to let the viscosity and stench consume me and paint me in the colors with which I am familiar. Red as blood, black as death, cold as ice. _

_ I lean against the wall, staring into the abyss, sinking into my darker heart and knowing, knowing that in rage I have the strength to do what in love I refused. _

_**I have to know**__. _

_ I can see it now, as it was but a night ago. The black eyed man who spoke as though he knew me…the man I recognized from the...the dark times. From now. _

_ I let desperation consume me as I climb the stairs and enter the room that had held such tender moments, such beautiful daydreams. I listen to the ghosts of the words we shared together, of Giselle's wisdom and kindness and beauty. Of everything I cannot have anymore…everything I should never have had from the beginning. _

_**It was destined to end this way, in blood in death in sorrow in hatred. I should have known. I…I killed her…and the black-eyed man…**__**he**__** killed her too. **_

_I open Giselle's satchel, feeling warmth and wet in my eyes as her scent washes over me. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, unwilling to cry, furious at the tears I have already wasted. Why grieve when I can act? Why weep silver when I can weep crimson? _

_ I close my eyes as my fingers come across the smooth glass vial, filled with the white blue glittering essence of liquid lyrium. I stare at it for a moment before pulling the cork. The scent hits the back of my throat and I force myself not to gag. _

_ For a moment, I feel remorse. Remorse that I could not access these memories, that I could not let Giselle fully into my fears, that I could not open my heart completely to love. But I force the needless guilt away, for deep within I knew. I knew that hell would return for me some day._

_ I think of the black-eyed man, willing his face into my memory, the deep, soulless pit of his gaze, his lips which curved in a smile as he dropped the pretense of a dockworker's voice. He knew me somehow…and he is the key…he is the key to finding those who murdered Giselle. _

_ With a wish for something akin to death, I drink the lyrium, letting it burn through my blood and boil through my skin and take me backwards, deeper, deeper, deeper into hell._

* * *

_**"You are too brave, Leron." the black-eyed man frowns, staring at my crumpled form on the floor. **_

_** My clothes are torn, my hair in disarray, and I can smell blood. **_

_** "I am confident in my skills." Leron grasps my collar and hauls me to my knees, pinching my face between his hands and forcing me to stare at the black-eyed man. I can scarcely see through the slits of my bruised, swollen eyelids. "Confident enough to know, my dear Armande, that the mistakes of this night will not be repeated."**_

_** The black-eyed man…Armande…glares at me. "I'm not satisfied, Leron." he snarls. "I hired her on your word of honor…then somehow she snakes out from beneath your enchantment and grows a damned conscience? The guards know my face because of your bitch, and I want my payment returned and something more done to punish her."**_

_** "Her blood is not enough?" Leron's voice drips with indignation, but I know he speaks of me as property and not out of affection. "You've beaten her within an inch of life."**_

_** "No." Armande growls. "She needs to be taught a lesson, Leron, from a **__**proper**__** bardmaster. Where is your other girl? The sister? Let this worthless bitch see one she loves punished for her failures. Such a thing tends to make more of an…impact…on such a **__**stubborn**__** mind."**_

_** Leron's frown deepens and he casts me back to the floor, where I curl on my side, splinting cracked ribs with my hand, struggling to stand, to fight, to protect Marjolaine. Leron kicks me in the gut, and I bite my lip to keep silent as I crumple back to the floor, knowing he is furious with me, knowing Armande is furious with me…but only one thought rings in my mind…**_

_**I do not kill children, no matter the price**__**. **_

_** "Very well, Armande." Leron capitulates. "You've won." he turns his head towards the closed door. "Marjolaine!" he calls.**_

_** I attempt to speak out in protest, but a hideous chuckle from Armande silences me as Marjolaine steps into the room. **_

_** "Yes, Leron?" she asks, her voice as smooth as honey and silk. **_

_** I want to warn her away, to shield her with my battered body, but I cannot move, held down by the pain in my body and my fear of Leron and Armande both. **_

_** "Oh my." Armande sneers as he inhales my little sister with a glance. "Oh, Leron, you have done **__**well**__** with this one. Come here, child."**_

_** Marjolaine looks to Leron, who nods, and I drag myself to my knees, gagging at the taste of blood in my mouth. "Don't." I rasp. **_

_** "Quiet, Kathyra." Leron orders, taking a harsh tone. "You failed to perform a contracted service. As a bardmaster's right, Armande is allowed to take his payment and mete punishment as he wishes."**_

_** "Oh yes." Armande rises and caresses Marjolaine's cheek. "She must be a good deal brighter than that…thing you offered me." the bardmaster spits and I feel the lukewarmth of his saliva slide down my cheek. "Virgin flesh." his tone deepens and I growl in the back of my throat. "**__**Ripe**__** for the picking."**_

_** Faster than I think possible, Marjolaine takes Armande's wrist and snaps it backwards. The black-eyed bardmaster falls to his knees, howling in pain and rage as Marjolaine's fingers expertly crush the pressure points in his neck, leaving him gasping for air as Leron rises from his seat. **_

_** "You've little time until you suffocate, Armande." Leron smiles, teeth white and pointed in the firelight. "You've reclaimed your gold and taken the blood of the one who failed you. Agree that you have been compensated in full, and I'll have Marjolaine release you. If not, you can die where you stand."**_

_** Armande clutches his throat and I attempt to read my sister's expression, unable to see her eyes through the haze in my own. At last, the rival bardmaster nods and Marjolaine releases the crimps in his veins, allowing him to breathe once again. **_

_** "You callous…wicked…bitch!" he curses at Marjolaine. "I won't be humiliated! I **__**will**__** find your failure and bring it home to your doorstep!"**_

_** "Get out, Armande." Marjolaine speaks with command, without fear, and my heart shrieks in my chest. "Search Thedas over and I swear, you will find no failure to lay at my feet."**_

_** Armande rises and staggers outside, his error weighing heavily on him. Marjolaine kneels beside me and cradles my head in her lap. Relief floods me as I realize that she is all right, that nothing has been taken from her, that her skin and soul remain unbroken. **_

_** "It is not yet time, Leron." Marjolaine whispers. "She needn't remember this."**_

_** "I agree." the mage speaks, kneeling down and pressing his hand over my eyes, rough against the bruising on my face. **_

_** Magic flows over me, swift and sickening…**_

* * *

_ I withdraw from the memory, sweaty and shaking, nauseated by the lyrium, a substance no non-mage was ever meant to ingest. I cringe as I realize the reason for Giselle's death. Betrayal is common in the bard's world, but a sister ruthless enough to kill her own flesh and blood…that would shake the foundations of even the nebulous bardic code. _

_**My death…was the cornerstone of Marjolaine's victory and ascent**__, I realize. **It**__** made others fear her and Armande…Armande did as he promised…and brought her failure back to her. **_

_ White hot tears of rage burn my cheeks as they fall from my eyes. Giselle is dead for a stupid, petty, bardic vendetta. _

_**Gold hair. Green eyes. Pretty. **_

_ She is dead because of our resemblance…dead because she knew me…dead because we loved. _

_ Trembling with wrath, I storm into the closet and reach for the chest at the back, opening it and withdrawing my leathers and my blades, all remnants of the time when I murdered and stole and lied. I don them once more, adorning myself with the weapons of war, the thieves of lives. _

_ One last time, I look upon the walls of my refuge. Then, slow and with intent, I pull the curtains from the windows and an oil lamp from the beside table. I wash the cloth and the floor in oil, spilling it down the stairs and into the clinic, leaving everything behind. _

_ I reach into the hearth, pulling a glowing ember out and blowing it into flame once more. With a final prayer to the gods of vengeance, I toss the flaming branch onto the oil slicked floor and cross over the threshold, letting the memories die in a conflagration._

_**And when my work is done, Giselle, I too shall enter the flames. Perhaps some god of mercy will see us reunited. If not…**_

_** …then I will burn. **_


End file.
